


The Timestream: Shinra and the Turks

by kasviel



Series: The Timestream (Savior Continuum) [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst and Romance, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Romance, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasviel/pseuds/kasviel
Summary: The fourth story in my Alternate Universe "Timestream" series. The fallout of Tseng's changed life begins to catch up to him, just as a new interest enters his life unexpectedly. Young slums dweller Reno's life is changed by a chance encounter that brings a turn in his own life. Meanwhile, Sephiroth and Rufus continue to battle their shifting relationship.
Relationships: Reno/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII), Sephiroth/Rufus Shinra
Series: The Timestream (Savior Continuum) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008870
Kudos: 7





	1. A Bad Summer (Must Be The Weather)

The summer of 1995 was stifling in the slums beneath Midgar’s Plate. Although Mako-fueled cooling systems pumped fresh air through the homes and businesses that could afford them, most of the slums were at the mercy of the the city’s muggy climate. Normally oppressive, the Plate above at least threw a cooling shadow upon the slums, and the Plate Suns were kept slightly dimmer than usual.

_Plate Suns, hm?_

Tseng slowed his brisk pace and lifted his head. He never enjoyed journeying down to the Midgar slums. No matter what Sector a slum was located beneath, all the underside was dirty, noisy, and desperate. He had stood in the audience while President Shinra had given a speech about the importance of light to life, but he was aware that these fake suns were merely to help with the ever-increasing surveillance systems Shinra was installing below. The surveillance cameras being installed on the underside were part of Shinra’s “anti-crime initiative”, which was really an effort to root out anti-Shinra subversives. As Shinra became more powerful globally, their enemies were growing more vocal. The outright aggression from Wutai which started the War with Wutai three years ago had thrown the debate into the public domain and Shinra, Inc. wanted to be certain Midgar’s population was on the right side of it. To most Shinra employees, however, the Plate Suns were just another necessary measure to placate the greedy freeloaders of the underside slums.

‘ _They always want more.’_

‘ _Can’t build anything themselves, they just want it all for free.’_

‘ _No better than Wutai grifters.’_

It had been that way ever since the war started. The more people who found success from the booming Midgar industrial complex and came topside, the more people who despised the slums and all the people in them. The more people who decried Shinra’s Mako Energy, the more people who believed Shinra, Incorporated was savior to the planet.

Tseng lowered his gaze from the steel sky and walked more quickly. Working for Shinra was the best way out of poverty, but he had no illusions about the company’s character. Even as a born topsider, he knew exactly how much they were capable of. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, he could not deny his own place in the company, either. But why waste time quibbling over destiny? It all was what it was.

And here _he_ was, in the Sector 5 slums, about to harass a widow and her adopted daughter. Tseng slowed again as he wound down a passageway into a remote area of the slum. He could hear Mako-infused water pouring down from above, to mix in rivers with the waste-water that trickled down from the Plate’s topside. This small slice of Sector 5, however, was a moment frozen between the purity of creation and the rot of corruption. It was a strange place, he felt that every time he set foot on the property. Perhaps that was why …

Tseng set aside his musings and feelings. It was time to do his job. This time, he told himself, this time he would get it done. Beneath his polished black shoes, the broken pavement gave way to rough gravel. The scent of greenery met his nose, a rarity even for the topside, and then a wave of floral fragrances met him. It was very strange, to find such a place in Midgar. He felt unwelcome, too sullied to invade this place. It was ridiculous to feel such a way about a private property, he knew, but he could not help it.

“Not you!”

Before he could gather his thoughts, a small, high voice broke the serenity. He turned around swiftly, loose strands of black hair whipping his face. He had been meaning to cut his hair, but it had grown out past his shoulders by now. The target was there above him, standing on a low outcropping of rock. Her green eyes sparked furiously and her tiny hands were balled into fists. Their eyes met and Tseng could not think of how to react. The only sound was the rushing of water. Beneath the flowers, he could smell a tinge of Mako.

“G-go away!”

“Aerith?” Tseng caught the uncertainty in his voice and cleared his throat. He smiled, though his smiles had never worked on this peculiar child before. “Aerith, must you always be this rude to me? You know that all I want is to bring you home, where you’ll be safe. Haven’t I told you that before?”

“You told me,” Aerith said coldly, “and you lied! You know I won’t be safe at Shinra! You’re a liar!”

The words cut more deeply than they should have but Tseng kept his face blandly friendly. As his boss always said, accomplishing the mission was the first priority. Yet he could not help feel a twinge of admiration for this young girl. The fear was plain in her eyes yet she held herself with dignified defiance. He had read her file. He knew she had seen Shinra military gun her mother down barely years ago. How could she be so bold?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Tseng said softly. “I would … never … hurt you.”

Was it true? He hoped that it was.

“Shinra only wants to keep you safe, Aerith.”

Knowing it was a lie and knowing that Aerith knew it was a lie, Tseng’s statement lacked the conviction he had intended. He drew a deep breath and tried again.

“You’re a very special girl,” Tseng said. “The world isn’t safe for special people, you know. The world is a dangerous place. It can be bad.”

“ _You’re_ bad.”

Tseng’s dark brown eyes widened at that. His smile faltered. Aerith narrowed her eyes and lifted her little chin. She looked like a judgmental little goddess from her small perch on high. It was ludicrous. She was only a young child. Why did her words bother him this much?

“You could have been nice,” Aerith murmured. Her expression softened, then crumbled. She fell down among her flowers, too weary for her age. “But you’re not. You’re bad. You’re all bad! I won’t go back there! You’re all bad!”

Tseng felt his own energy fading. The overwhelming scent of flowers, the Mako stink beneath the bouquet, the hot day, the steel sky … Today would not be the day that he accomplished this particular mission after all. Other than the half-crazed Head of the Science Department, Hojo, no one seemed to care too much about retrieving this girl. Why not put it off another week? Or two? They had specifically told him that she would have to return to Shinra of her own free will, that he was not to harm her. He was grateful for this. Annoying as this back and forth battle of wills was, he was not eager to kidnap a little girl.

“What are you doing? Aerith!”

The girl’s mother was making her way over from the house. She stopped on the path, paling at the sight of Tseng. She made to confront him, thought better of it, and went around the winding garden pathway up to where Aerith sat. She knelt beside her, clutching the girl to her breast. No blood between them but the love was clear. Once again, Tseng felt sullied.

“I only came to talk,” Tseng lied. “Aerith, think about what I said. The world is cruel to those that are special—and those that love them.”

Aerith’s bottom lip quivered and she buried her face in Elmyra’s dress.

“Go away!” came her muffled cry. “Just go away! You’re bad and I don’t want to see you anymore! Go away!”

The shrillness hurt his ears. As he turned, he saw Elmyra pick up the little girl in her arms. It _was_ bad. Whatever reason Shinra had for separating these two, it could be nothing else. But it was what it was.

Wasn’t it?

The Plate Suns were dimming by the time he exited Sector 5. He had no set schedule today, only an order to check in on the girl and attempt retrieval. He had flown down on a Shinra helicopter, since he was still training for his pilot license. For the rest of the evening, he was free as this metal bird they had loaned him. He left it, heading deeper into the slums on foot. Children screamed and laughed as he passed the Evergreen Park, a pitiful dusty playground whose name was now only a mockery. Somewhere, a dog was barking incessantly. The smell of cheap food wafted through the air, mixing with the scent of flowers still lingering in his nose.

_Everyone topside thinks the worst of these people,_ Tseng thought, _but_ I’m _the one here to try to coerce a little girl back to a madman’s laboratory. I wonder what Rufus Shinra would think about this?_

Tseng sighed and pushed thoughts of the young Vice President out of his head. He knew Rufus intimately, but in many ways, he did not know him at all. During their two-year affair, Tseng's pride had never allowed him to grow overly familiar with his future boss. What would be the point of that? They had never been compatible enough for a serious, long-term relationship. Besides, Tseng had always known that Rufus was fast falling in love with the boy raised as a ward of the Shinra family: Sephiroth. He cared for and respected Rufus, but had no interest in fighting for him.

Still …

As the Plate Suns dimmed, Wall Market lit up. Music blared from speakers, barkers shouted advertisements for their goods, and a crush of people descended on the market. Some years back, Wall Market had been the sore of the slums, the gutter to end all gutters. Now, the lure of its forbidden fruits was too powerful for even topsiders to ignore. Instead of keeping the so-called ‘decent’ out, its walls had only served to keep its seedy, simmering temptations in. Whether this was Shinra’s intent or a stroke of luck for the Wall Market vendors, Tseng did not know, but even he had come to appreciate its gift of pure escapism.

Tseng found the bar frequented by Shinra employees and claimed a stool for himself. He already had a tab, despite his newness to Shinra culture and his youth. The bartender brought him a bottle of his usual brand of beer. Within half an hour, Shinra employees were flooding the place.

“A little early for you, isn’t it?”

Tseng glanced up and regarded Reeve Tuesti thoughtfully. The Head of Urban Development was a scant five years older than he was, but he was the architect that had designed Midgar’s pizza dish layout and the revolutionary Make Reactors. Most of the Department Heads were aloof, but Reeve was the exact opposite. He was friendly with everyone, even lower-tier employees. He was the only one that Tseng had ever met who genuinely seemed to care for Midgar and its citizens. Reeve’s vision of the future of Midgar was loftily idealistic. Not for the first time, Tseng wondered what Shinra, Inc. would be like if Reeve were President. Most likely bankrupt, was the cynical answer he always came back to. Still, he appreciated Reeve’s amiability.

“Hot day,” Tseng said. “Especially in the slums. I don’t see you here very often at this hour, either.”

“It must be the weather.”

Tseng could tell that Reeve knew he was lying. He could also tell Reeve did not want to discuss his own problems. Reeve took the stool next to his and they drank in companionable silence for a few minutes. Was it the season for moral crises? Tseng snickered at the thought. He knew where both their problems stemmed from, and Reeve did as well.

“ _The weather_ is demanding that we vent more Reactor heat down into the slums,” Reeve admitted. “The Plate is getting too hot and the President doesn’t want to implement energy limits or supplement the power supply with non-Mako alternatives. So, the slums are going to get the worst of _the weather_.”

It was a habit of those both topside and underside to use euphemisms in place of insulting Shinra, Inc. directly. More evidence of Shinra’s indomitable power. Tseng rubbed the side of his nose briefly. When would the smell of flowers finally fade?

“ _The weather_ sent me after that girl,” Tseng said. He drank off the last of his beer, motioned for another. “Again.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Hey. That place.” Tseng turned to face the older man. “Was that by design? The house by the waterfall?”

“No, not at all,” Reeve said. “It’s coolant and Mako waste that was left to spill into the slums. But it—”

Reeve paused, frowned into his glass.

“Yes?”

“This will sound strange.” Reeve swirled the amber liquid around. “It was never so vibrant before that girl turned up there. The widow, and her husband when he was alive, they kept it clean. They managed to grow some plants, even. But now it’s downright lush. Everything planted there thrives.”

“Hm.”

“Life will grow.”

_In the slums?_ Tseng almost asked. He shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of his beer. His Turks uniform suit felt heavy, warm, but he was in the habit of keeping it neat. He wished he had something to tie his growing hair back with. He should really get that haircut. Yet every time he went to schedule one, he thought of Rufus remarking on it: _'You should let it grow it. It's very lovely.'_

Tseng sighed and sipped his beer. Rufus Shinra had a taste for long hair, as evidenced by his growing attraction to Sephiroth. It would be stupid to grow it out for him, Rufus was on the path of true love with his troublesome ward, but Tseng still had not cut it. He wondered if he missed the Shinra heir more than he cared to admit.

The bar was growing steadily more raucous. Occasionally, the sound of firecrackers going off in the street could be heard. Dirty. Desperate. But it wasn’t so bad. Life did grow down here, despite overwhelming odds. It was admirable, the way people could flourish under any conditions. Some of these would even thrive, get out, leave the slums behind. At least they would not take life on the Plate for granted, the way his parents had.

“Well, _the weather_ will be the same tomorrow,” Tseng said. “I’ve had enough. I still need to fly the helicopter back up.”

Reeve gestured for the bartender to hold his spot and walked Tseng out. Reeve was plainly known and respected in the bar. Tseng reflected that he would like to know what that power felt like one day. How would he feel, walking in here as the Head of Administrative Research, also known as “The Turks”? Or would he be so melancholy by then that he only drank alone, like the current boss, Veld?

‘ _You’re bad!’_

He could still see the fury in her eyes, still smell the flowers. Why had she told him that he ‘could have been nice’? It felt as if she had seen his entire destiny spread out and judged him unworthy. The alcohol had only ignited his temper, but it was a welcome reprieve from his depression. He was not angry at the girl, but at Shinra, Midgar, everything, anything …

Being angry was so much better than being confused.

* * *

  
  


“Maaaaan, it’s hot!”

The boy exclaimed this observation to no one in particular. He had spent the day tossing and turning on the filthy mattress he kept tucked away in an old vent in Sector 5. The Leaf House Orphanage was for suckers, he had decided that early on, and he would rather be homeless than housed _there_. The lessons were boring. The teachers were barely older than him, all trying desperately to hide their own desperation. What did they think? Doing _good_ would get them out of the slums? That enriching their souls and their morality could take the place of financial enrichment?

_Don’t got time for none of that,_ the boy thought with a sneer. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. I need gil! It’s too hot to be broke!_

Before he knew it, he was in Wall Market. Again. His turquoise-blue eyes were scanning the crowd for any kind of mark. Again. If there was one thing he was good at, it was finding opportunities, especially in this cesspool. But he wasn’t in the mood for the easy type of score, not tonight. All he needed was some fast, clean gil. Was that too much to ask for? Just enough for a cold drink and a warm meal on this stifling night …

“—shouldn’t be asking you to—You’re so young—isn’t right that—recruiting—just kids—”

The boy slowed his steps and stepped into the shadows cast by Wall Market’s neon lights. That upscale bar the Shinra people frequented, there were two men abandoning it early. Dark hair on both of them, both average height, both handsome in their sharp suits. The boy stared at them for a moment before snorting cynically. Maybe one of those? He moved closer to them, staying hidden within the shadows.

“Not really a choice,” the man with longer hair was saying. “Why fight the inevitable? I have this job, this life. It’s more than many have. I have no reason to complain.”

_Not dressed like that, you don’t,_ the boy agreed.

“It doesn’t mean that you’re happy,” the other man said. “There are things, many things, that I am starting to see about Shinra. There are things that I don’t like, not at all.”

“And what? Will you change them? Will I?” the first man asked, though in a bland tone. “Mr. Tuesti, I respect you, I truly do. I appreciate your concern. But you’re a Department Head. You can have an opinion, you can try to make change. All I can do is my job. I’m sure you’ve read my file.”

“That’s my point. It was wrong. Recruiting you because of that—It was—”

“Unconscionable?” the man shrugged. “Shinra is a corporation. Corporations don’t have consciences. I will do what I must do. I wish you luck in doing whatever you feel that _you_ must do. Good night, sir.”

With that, the longer-haired man turned on his heel and came down the street towards the boy. The kid pressed himself into the shadows. Which mark? They were both distracted by their Shinra drama, neither one would be a challenge. Something about the clipped, cool tone of the longer-haired man’s voice bothered the boy. He was like the stern, know-it-all Leaf House teachers. As he passed, the boy caught a whiff of flowers, beer, and the man’s own scent: a mix of soap, sandalwood, and light sweat. A topsider smell. The boy grinned and followed.

The crowds thinned outside of Wall Market. By this time, Evergreen Park was mostly empty, quiet. The boy fell in with a few people on their way to pass the guy in the black suit. Just as they all came to a narrow turn, he knocked one of the pedestrians into the man, and collided with him himself. A few seconds was all he needed to locate the wallet in the man’s pants pocket and lift it. Then, he was back in the shadows, and on his way into the night.

_Easy money!_ Reno rejoiced, pumping his fist as he ran. _Too bad, topsider!_


	2. Taken Down and Brought Up

Tseng knew exactly the moment his wallet was stolen. It was not difficult to discern the fugitive between the bewildered man strolling with his girlfriend and the skinny redheaded kid that vanished a moment later. His tolerance for the slums had hit its limit by now. He was sick of all of it, from the strange floral garden to the Mako stench to the cheap food and liquor and people. Shinra may be a cruel, soulless, ruthless entity, but at least life within the company was structured, civilized. This messy heat, these messy feelings, this unruly place—he was done with it. Hopefully, someone else could chase after the unnaturally stalwart little girl. He never wanted to come down here again.

Tseng wiped sweat from his brow and spun around. He wanted nothing more than to go home and shower this night off, but he would be damned if he would give his wallet up to some random thief. The kid was good, he nearly lost him, but that bright red hair was not easy to hide even in this darkness. Quiet as he was, Tseng was quieter. Clever as he was, Tseng knew Sector 5 like the back of his hand (foolishly having studied it in hopes of snatching Aerith away easily). The little thief thought he had gotten away, but he had no chance of escape.

Meanwhile, Reno wound his way through Sector 5 unknowingly. He stuck his tongue out as he passed the Leaf House orphanage. What did those losers know? They were sleeping away a perfectly nice night, while he had free money to burn. Suckers!

Reno doubled back to what served as the town square. Through a narrow passage, he came into a patch of empty land. The kids played here during the day but given its proximity to monster-infested land, no one braved it at night. He opened the wallet and rifled through it. It was too dark to read the ID card but he could plainly see the Shinra logo. A nice amount of gil, too, three, four- _five-_ hundred, maybe, and—

A vice-like grip encircled Reno’s wrist suddenly. He gasped and caught a whiff of that scent: sweat, soap, cologne, beer, and flowers. So, the Shinra topsider had found him. He could not help being impressed.

“Not yours,” a voice said at his ear quietly.

“Not yet,” the boy grinned.

Reno twisted his arm around, thinking he could break the grip. Instead, the man slid his hand fluidly around his wrist without breaking his hold. Reno’s brow furrowed as the first flutter of fear went through him. He grinned more widely, determined not to let it show.

“Oooh came all this way to dance, huh? Ok.”

Reno leaned back into the other man instead of trying to go around him. He ignored his captured hand for the moment, focusing on his free limbs. But the man in the suit was fast, avoiding every strike Reno made. His slim body seemed to flow around Reno like water, always keeping his dominant hand gripped tightly. When Reno grabbed a loose pipe, his arm was finally freed. Thinking himself victorious, Reno swung the pipe at his frustrating opponent with all his strength. The man easily ducked beneath it, the pipe swiping only the ends of his longish hair. His fist came up and Reno braced himself for a body blow.

The move was a feint. The man in the suit swept Reno’s legs out from under him and took his arm in his own. Reno reached back desperately, took hold of that long hair. He heard the man grunt and yanked on it hard. Before he could gain leeway, the man twisted his arm painfully behind his back and forced his face down into the dirt. The pain in his restrained arm made Reno cry out and release the man’s hair.

Tseng snorted, annoyed at how much trouble this kid had given him. The secluded corner of the slums was otherwise silently still.

“Okay, okay, okay!” the boy exclaimed. “Take it back! Damn!”

“Why?”

“What?” the boy writhed. “For the gil! Shit! Why else?”

Tseng did not know whether it was the kid’s flippant attitude, the hot night, or the struggle he had been forced into. Was it the stench of Mako or the unshakable fragrance of flowers? Veld had warned him about his temper but now he felt it flaring uncontrollably. He wanted to punish the entire world for being _what it was_. He did not have any control over the world, of course, but he did have this little punk, didn’t he?

“Lemme go, man!” the kid demanded. “I didn’t take nothin’! It’s all there! So let me go!”

“Not yet.”

“ _What_?”

Reno’s free arm was jerked behind his back to join the other. Plastic bit into Reno’s skin as his wrists were zip-tied together. The fear flapping around inside gave way to sheer panic. He knew all the urban legends about psychotic topsiders coming down to the slums to get off on murdering random kids and women. Was this one of them? Why the hell had he been so stupid? There were much easier ways to earn some extra gil.

The man in the suit lifted him up and dragged him across the dirty patch. Reno chanced a full look at him. He was frowning severely but he did not look insane. Did killers ever really look insane, though? Reno had seen men steal lives with calmer expressions, less storm than the one raging in this man’s dark brown eyes. His mouth was a thin, severe line of tension. Anger crackled off him like electricity. Despite his slim weight, his grasp was painfully strong.

The man pulled the struggling Reno over to a stack of crates. Before Reno could puzzle out exactly what awful fate awaited him, the man set one foot on a crate, then hoisted him over his lifted knee.

“I think a lesson is in order first.”

“Wha—what?”

Reno’s head was spinning too fast to make sense of anything. He stared at the dirt while he felt the man’s arm encircle his waist. His shorts were tugged down beneath the slight curve of his buttocks. He had foregone underwear that day, much to his chagrin. Was this some kind of sex thing? It was better than being murdered, he figured, but—

_Smack!_

The loud sound brought the pieces together. Reno winced as a splotch of hot pain stung his bottom, followed by a second one on the opposite cheek. He kicked instinctively, though he was helplessly bound and bent over. For once in his life, the kid was speechless.

Tseng did not mean the boy any real harm. He could have hurt him in a thousand ways during their fight, if he had wanted to. But he did not intend to let the brat go running off into the night so easily. He would probably be coming to the Sector 5 slums often, after Aerith, and he could not have this one boasting about getting away with almost robbing him. Nor did he want him to ever even think of trying it again. The kid had probably taken worse but a nice sharp shock from a stranger would be good medicine for him. Not to mention, it felt good to have a physical target for his pent-up frustrations.

The gunshot-like smacks made a dog start barking in the distance but people tended to mind their own business in the slums. The kid had given up his struggles, taking his licks in silence save for the occasional small whimper and kick. Tseng hit hard and fast. Before long, even the dim light could not hide how red the boy’s slender bottom was. He would have some bruises. Satisfied, Tseng pulled his shorts back up and flipped him back onto his feet.

Tseng ignored him as he removed his keychain, intending to use its utility tool to cut the zip-ties binding the kid. A small, broken cry made him look back at the boy. To his surprise, the boy was losing the battle against tears. Gone was the cynical grin, the flippant attitude. His face crumbled and he bowed his head. Tears fell and blotched the dusty earth between the boy’s scuffed boots and Tseng’s glossy shoes.

“Hey,” Tseng blurted out, “don’t cry.”

The boy burst into tears, thin shoulders hunching. Tseng scrambled to untie his arms. He stayed on his guard, wondering if it was an act. The boy fell against his chest, dissolving into sobs. Tseng lifted his arms, dropped them, sighed. What was _this_?

‘ _You’re bad!’_

Aerith’s voice rang through his mind and he shut his eyes, pained. The weight of that girl’s truth fell upon his shoulders as if the Plate itself had come down. What had he done today? Frightened a widowed mother and little girl? Made this kid cry? What the hell was he becoming?

Tseng hesitantly put his arms around the boy. He felt very thin, though he was taut with wiry muscle. His red hair was an unruly mess, his clothes worn and quickly being out-grown. He was not as young as Tseng initially thought but he still smelled a little like the cheap, spicy candy popular with children in the slums that year. Not a child, then, but still a teenager.

 _Still young enough to cry over a spanking,_ Tseng thought, feeling guilty. He ran a hand over the boy’s bony back, then embraced him tightly. He was briefly reminded of Elmyra clutching Aerith to her chest, the connection he had been sent down here to sever. Before he knew it, he was holding the boy as desperately as the boy was clutching onto him.

The boy quieted eventually. Shame overtook his face as he scrubbed tears and snot off with the back of his hand. He looked confused, unused to vulnerability. He was cute, Tseng could not help but note, with that shock of bright red hair and his sharp, fox-like face. His face had two horrible scars, one on each prominent cheekbone. Tseng wondered what he had seen in his lifetime.

“Shhh,” Tseng hushed him one last time, swiping a hand through his hair. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you anymore.”

The boy sniffled pitifully. He looked torn between wanting to run and wanting to stay in Tseng’s arms. Tseng tightened his grip on his shoulders. He knew that he should let the boy go but he was drawn to him. Aerith and Elmyra would never forgive him, but perhaps he could make things right with this kid.

“What’s your name?”

“R-Reno.”

“Reno.” He nodded. “I’m Tseng.”

What else could he say? Guilt gnawed at him. Was this going to be life in the Turks? Never being able to admit what you truly were? Flying in and out of the slums disrupting lives and causing misery? He had thought that he was prepared to deal with it all. How naive.

“Have you … ever seen the Shinra HQ, Reno?”

“Huh? No.” The boy sniffed. “Never been topside.”

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Tseng ran his hand down the boy’s arm and took him by the wrist. The kid was perplexed but did not fight. Tseng picked up his wallet, making sure its contents were intact. Reno blushed, unable to look at it.

_What am I doing?_

The thought passed through both their minds at the same time. Tseng kept Reno close at his side, firmly holding him by the wrist. The practical side of his brain knew exactly what he was doing. The Shinra Administrative Research Department (AKA “The Turks”) was quickly becoming a vital branch of Shinra’s Public Security Division. As such, the department needed fresh recruits constantly, especially given the turnover rate of the demanding and often lethally dangerous department. Upon passing training, every rookie Turk was expected to scout out another recruit, usually within the next one to two years. Reno had been no match for Tseng but Tseng had not been blind to the tricky boy’s potential. He also had the feeling that Reno’s small breakdown had been caused by emotion, not by the punishment itself. He was raw, rough material, but Tseng thought he might make a good Turk.

But why bring this kid into a job that was making Tseng miserable? Was he trying to verify himself by impressing him? Or was he looking for someone to share his distaste for it? Was it something simpler? Was there something else that was keeping him from letting this boy go?

Reno was somewhat dazed. It had been a very long time since he had been caught for anything, let alone punished. The helplessness Tseng had forced upon him had brought back memories he was still unable to fully cope with. Now, he was too ashamed of himself to think straight. He let this strange man in the black suit drag him along, not caring what happened next. His mind was still throbbing from flashbacks he thought he had stifled once and for all.

They came to the Shinra helicopter that Tseng had flown down what seemed like ages ago. He helped Reno up to the passenger seat and then went around to the pilot’s side. He buckled himself in and instructed the boy to do the same. Reno’s face was dry by now, though his mouth was turned down sullenly and his eyebrows were furrowed. His blue eyes were very wide as they lifted off the ground. Excitement broke through his sulk and he gaped at the landscape below. Tseng smiled to himself, amused and relieved.

“They let you fly this thing?” Reno asked. “You came down from the Plate in this?”

“I’m practicing for my pilot’s license,” Tseng explained. “It’s best to stay sharp through hands-on experience, so when the chopper is free, I use it.”

“Huh.” Reno looked around the cockpit, shifting in the seat. “Hey, what does this do?”

“Ah!”

Tseng smacked the kid’s hand off the lever. Reno pouted at him.

“That controls the guns,” Tseng said. “Unless you want a massacre, please don’t touch it again.”

“This has guns?” Reno leaned out to glimpse them beneath the helicopter. “Whoa. Badass.”

 _He’s recovering quickly,_ Tseng thought. _I don’t know whether that makes him more or less childish._

“Wow,” Reno said. “It all looks so small from up here. Everything’s so … broken and ugly. Insignificant.”

The kid leaned back in the seat, blowing out a sigh. He stretched out his long legs and watched the slums grow more indistinct beneath them. Tseng’s Turk-brain noted the lack of a fear of heights, the way his eyes kept sliding to the lever controlling the guns, his restless energy. Reno was trying to play it cool but he was growing more and more excited. He opened his mouth when the true sky above the Plate came into view, then shut it.

“You’ve never seen true stars this closely before, have you?” Tseng observed gently. “You’re lucky to come up tonight. The skies are usually overcast over Midgar.”

Reno looked at him with a guarded frown but decided Tseng was not mocking him. He was still a bit frightened of this man in the suit. Did he really feel bad about making him cry? Why would he? He was the one that had tried to rip him off, after all. Why was this Shinra suit being so damn nice all of a sudden?

Reno wanted to go back down to the slums, run off, and never see this Tseng guy again. Topsiders were weird and Shinra stooges were weirder. Who knew what he wanted? It couldn’t be anything normal. Reno was willing to satisfy people for gil, even freaky ones, but he did not trust people who were difficult to read. Tseng was inscrutable. He thought the kindness was genuine but he had not apologized for hitting him, and Reno had the feeling he would not. There was sorrow in those almond-shaped eyes of his, but it was buried far beneath his sternness. There was something else, too, but Reno could not decipher what it was.

All the thoughts running through Reno’s mind were slowly blotted out by the stars above and the topside city of Midgar below. He had seen pictures, of course, but nothing could prepare him for the sheer scope of it. The Mako Reactors ringed the Plate, and the Shinra HQ building in Sector 0 was the mechanical heart of it all. The building brooded tall and bright in the center of Midgar, spotlights making it glow against the black night. So, this was the city beyond the slums. He had always pictured it to be even higher up, in the clouds. Now he understood the impression: the city was swathed by drifting exhaust clouds from the Mako Reactors. The bright Mako-powered lights soon blotted out the real stars above. By the time they were descending towards the Plate, Reno no longer cared about the natural night sky.

Tseng brought the chopper down to park it on one of the Shinra HQ’s airstrips. Reno was slack-jawed, gazing out at the HQ building, the traffic, the city. He was so enraptured that he stumbled on his way out of the chopper. Tseng caught him easily. Reno turned his face to him and their profiles nearly touched.

 _He’s so warm,_ Tseng thought. Heat crept up his own neck as Reno’s hand brushed against his shoulder. _It’s just the weather._

“Careful with that step,” Tseng warned. “It’s not a car.”

“Uh, yeah.” Reno reluctantly stepped back. He turned around in a full circle, taking everything in. “Hey, uh, why are we here?”

Tseng’s hand gripped his wrist again. He gave a tug and Reno followed him towards the building. The air was clear here but it smelled strongly of Mako. Reno moved closer to Tseng. He smelled good, but Reno wondered why he had the scent of flowers clinging to his suit. It was no cologne, it smelled natural, as if he had been in a garden. Had he taken the chopper outside of Midgar? Gone to see a girlfriend somewhere romantic and full of bouquets?

 _If he did, they must have broken up,_ Reno thought. _No one comes back in such a pissed-off mood from seeing someone they care about. That’s good._

The thought startled Reno. He had little time to contemplate his feelings about it. They reached the Shinra Building and Tseng swiped a keycard at the entrance. Gleaming glass doors opened and admitted them. Even at this hour, smartly-dressed employees were bustling to and fro. Reno swallowed, looking down at his old clothes, sweaty skin. What was he _doing_ here?

Reno expected someone to stop them, at least to question his presence. No one did. Tseng looked younger in the bright lights, but he was obviously someone already known in the place. In fact, some employees averted their eyes deliberately. That was when Reno noticed that Tseng’s black suit was different, more like a uniform. He had heard stories about people in black suits prowling the slums for anti-Shinra antagonists and spying on criminal activity. Was Tseng one of those Shinra spooks? Did they actually exist?

 _It must be great to have that kind of power,_ Reno thought. He smirked to himself at the thought. _Going through this place scaring all these uppity pricks. Yeah, that would be nice._

They got into an elevator and Tseng used his keycard again. Reno looked out the glass at the city as the chamber sped upwards. The Plate was more like another world than another layer of the city. It was hard to believe that he had spent his entire life scurrying around its underbelly while all this existed topside.

“Why am I here?”

Reno turned on Tseng. Tseng was leaning against the elevator wall, arms crossed, quiet. Feeling so out of place began to spark Reno’s temper.

“Why would you bring me here?” he asked. “What do you want, huh? People don’t get topside from the slums for free.”

“No.”

“So what do you want from me?” Reno made an effort to take the edge out of his voice. He sidled a little closer to the strange man, smiling. “It’s really great up here, you know? I’d be willing to do a lot to stay. But you gotta tell me what, right? Just tell me.”

“Give it a little longer,” Tseng said. “You’ll understand soon.”

“But—”

Tseng lifted a hand and Reno fell silent. He did not want to ruin his shot at staying topside. Besides, Tseng was not the type to be argued with, the smarting marks on his bottom were proof of that. Reno exhaled in frustration, leaning against the elevator wall beside Tseng. Tseng reached out but let his hand fall before making contact. The gesture was incongruously shy. Reno pondered the man until the elevator stopped.

The floor they exited onto had the sterile feel of a medical facility, though it was much cleaner than any Reno had ever seen. They walked down a hallway until they met a harried-looking man in a white lab coat. Randomly, he started complaining to Tseng.

“This is intolerable,” he said. “Not only do I have to give up my lab all day for Dr. Hojo and his people, but-but to be forced into working overtime, at this hour, it’s-it’s—”

“Aren’t you doctors always saying that stress is a killer?” Reno interrupted. “You’re not looking very healthy, doc.”

“What! Who? What!”

Tseng shot Reno a stern look but amusement danced in his eyes. He patted Reno’s shoulder and pushed him towards the doctor. The man glowered at the kid. Reno just grinned.

“This is Reno, and he’s a candidate for the Administrative Research Department Aptitude Test,” Tseng announced. “As you know, the test is scheduled for tomorrow morning. Without a physical, he won’t make this round. Surely, you can see why fitting him in is a priority? Given the prioritization the Turks have been given for recruitment?”

Reno gaped at Tseng, who ignored him. _Aptitude Test? Turks? What?_

“Well, yes, but—oh, fine!” the doctor exclaimed. “Let’s get this over with, _Reno_. Tell Veld that he owes me a drink for this!”

Tseng half-bowed respectfully. Reno was shuffled into the medical examination room before he could say anything. Tseng remained outside. Reno tried to make sense of everything while the doctor ordered him to strip and proceeded to poke, prod, and needle him. He was professional and brisk, not even remarking about the boy’s reddened buttocks. Nonetheless, Reno was thoroughly humiliated by the time he emerged from the room.

Tseng was returning from somewhere when they exited. He clapped a hand on Reno’s shoulder and brought him back to the elevator. He would not explain himself further until they had reached the cafeteria floor. Reno was dying to ask him a million questions but was not one to ignore a free meal. They ordered and took their food to a table in an empty corner of the large room. Reno’s hunger got the better of him and he wolfed down half his meal before getting to his questions. Tseng watched with his bemused smile, eating with the same delicate elegance that he fought with.

“You think I could be a Turks?” Reno asked, almost choking. He impatiently took a long drink of soda. “For real? Do you mean it?”

“Of course,” Tseng said. “I wouldn’t waste company resources or the poor doctor’s time if I was not serious, would I?”

“But why? Why me?”

“Misguided as you are, I’m not foolish enough to ignore your talents,” Tseng said. “You lack polish and discipline, but you’re fast. Clever. You have good base instincts. You were troublesome. No one has been troublesome to me since I began my Turks training. Understand?”

“You mean it?” Reno asked. “I mean, you’re not just saying that? You took me down pretty easily.”

“Well, I am a Turk.”

“Yeah, but I mean … ” Reno shifted, frowning. “You’re not just stringing me along, are you?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I dunno. Because you want something else from me? Or you’re just a sadist?” Reno shrugged. “I don’t know! Topsiders are always after something.”

“Every new Turks member is required to recruit at least one other,” Tseng explained. “I think that you have the potential to be my first recruit. That’s all I want, to give you that chance.”

“Why?”

Tseng blinked and set down his fork. He intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them. Reno shifted in his chair again, avoiding the scrutinizing gaze. He felt that those cool dark brown eyes could see straight through him.

“Do you feel that you don’t deserve the chance?” Tseng asked. “You were pretty confident when you were trying to fight me for my own wallet.”

“That was before—” Reno sucked in a breath, unable to say it. His face grew warm. “Well. Yeah, I usually do all right for myself. I get by, I can hold my own in a fight. And I’m not really some crybaby. I’m good with pain. You took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I understand that,” Tseng said. “That’s why I decided to bring you here and give you this opportunity. Also, I … ”

“Hm?”

This time, Tseng was the uncertain one. He picked up his fork and resumed eating. His face colored just the slightest bit but Reno caught it. Reno took a cue from Tseng and waited the moment out in silence, staring at him. Tseng took his time chewing, face thoughtful. He tossed the plastic utensils onto his empty tray, wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“I didn’t want you to keep crying.”

With that, he stood. Reno crumbled up his own garbage and stumbled after him. They disposed of the waste in the trash and Tseng led the way to the elevators again. He seemed to take it for granted that Reno would follow, no longer bothering to drag him along by the wrist.

“I never meant to make you cry,” Tseng elaborated in the elevator’s privacy. “I have ongoing business in Sector 5. I wanted to teach you a lesson so that you would think twice about trying to rip me off again, that’s all. I wasn’t out to really hurt you.”

“Really?” Reno said doubtfully. “You sure hit me hard for someone not trying to really hurt me.”

“Well, I _was_ annoyed,” Tseng admitted.

“Would hate to see you angry if that was just annoyance.”

“Then don’t make me angry.”

Reno rubbed a hand over his bottom, licked his lips nervously. Tseng moved closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Reno was starting to see beyond his sweet, concerned smile. It was difficult to see due to his beauty (Reno could not deny the man was beautiful) but there was a strain to the expression. He seemed—lonely. Reno thought back to the conversation with the other Shinra man he had overheard Tseng engaged in:

‘ _But it doesn’t mean you’re happy.’_

‘ _I have no reason to complain.’_

Reno tried to recall everything he had heard. Something about Tseng being too young to be recruited, being forced into the job. Tseng had sounded resigned to his fate, though not outright displeased. It was weird to think they had anything in common, this topsider and himself, but Reno could see they were both doing what they had to to survive.

“It was a joke,” Tseng said. “I’m not very good at humor, am I? But listen to me now, Reno. The Turks are not a joke. What I’m offering you isn’t an easy way out of the slums. It may not be a way out at all, if you can’t cut it. We have to do bad things sometimes—no, oftentimes.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the urban legends about Shinra’s spooks in black suits.” Reno said flippantly. “I know all about it.”

Tseng hit the emergency stop button and the elevator came to a halt. They were a few floors above ground level. Below, they could see the traffic, but the soundproofed chamber allowed nothing to be heard. It was strange to see so much light and motion in silence.

“We’re not boogeymen, Reno,” Tseng said. His tone was patient but he forced Reno to look at him by turning his face by the chin. “Listen to me. We’re not spooks or monsters, we’re only men and women doing our jobs.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that men and women just doing their jobs can be the cruelest things in the world,” Tseng said. “For a member of the Turks, the mission will always be the priority. Do you understand what that means?”

“You’re real cold motherfuckers,” Reno drawled.

Tseng’s eyes narrowed and the smile was dashed from his face. He took Reno by the shoulders and pressed him against the elevator wall. Reno had the absurd image of the glass shattering and falling to a bloody death below. He swallowed hard, throat clicking.

“Sorry, sorry!” Reno exclaimed. “That was a joke! You’re not good at getting humor either, are you?”

“Reno, I’m trying to be honest with you,” Tseng said. “You’re a tough kid. You have potential. I think that you could be a worthy asset to the Turks. But if you overstep, you won’t get off with just a spanking.”

Reno blushed, his stomach fluttering. The feeling was not entirely unpleasant. He was beginning to recognize what the previously unidentifiable feeling between them was. He wondered if Tseng felt it too?

“I know how Shinra operates these days,” Reno said. “Okay? I’m not a child, I get how things are. I was just joking. When your life is so cheap, why should you take it seriously, right?”

“Not a child?” Tseng echoed. “Is that right? How old are you? Fourteen?”

“ _Sixteen_!” Reno said defensively.

“Sixteen? Hm. I thought you were younger.” Tseng turned Reno’s face again, studying it. “You look sixteen. It's your attitude that makes you seem more juvenile.”

“That’s cold,” Reno said, eyes wide. “Why? How old are _you_ , Mr. Tseng?”

“It’s just ‘Tseng’.” He released Reno and straightened his suit jacket. “I’m eighteen.”

“WHAT!” Reno shouted indignantly. “You’re only _two years_ older than me? Two shitty years? And you spanked me like that? Just because you _thought_ I was younger?”

“Given your personality, I have no regrets.”

A small smirk tugged the corner of Tseng’s mouth. Reno wanted to hate him but he could not. Despite his chagrin, he cracked a grin.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said. “That’s why you really brought me all the way here. You’re just enjoying fucking with me.”

“Not at all.” Tseng unlocked the elevator with a press of the button. “Perhaps a little.”

The elevator whirred to motion. Tseng suddenly reached out and gave Reno’s bottom a sharp slap. Reno jumped.

“Watch your mouth,” Tseng said. “If you do make the Turks, this will be your workplace, and _I_ will be your superior. Have some respect.”

“S-sure, boss.”

The elevator stopped and they got out. Tseng watched Reno out of the corners of his eyes. His shoulders were hunched and he was scratching the nape of his neck nervously. Tseng decided his initial surmise was correct: it wasn’t pain that Reno had difficulty with particularly, it was humility. That would be useful for future corrections, if Reno did make the Turks.

“Presumptuous of you, to call me that,” Tseng teased. “You don’t even know if you’ll pass the aptitude test, let alone the training program.”

“I’m going to.”

Tseng turned on his heels, walking backwards to take a full look at the boy. Reno had set his mobile mouth into a serious pout and he was frowning. Despite how boyish he looked, it was the first time Tseng sensed genuine determination in him. Despite his youth, recklessness, cynicism, and disobedient nature, Tseng did not doubt the kid.

“I’m not goin’ back to the fu—to the slums,” Reno said certainly. “I’ll do whatever, I don’t care. You think getting ahead down in the slums is any cleaner? I’m _not_ a child and I _know_ how things are. But I’m topside. I’m in the Shinra fu—freaking—HQ! I’m not goin’ back!”

Tseng took him by the wrist and dragged him out of the building hastily.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said, “but would you please keep your voice down?”

“Sorry.” Reno shrugged one shoulder, looking around the front entrance. “So. Where we going now, boss?”

“It’s just ‘Tseng’,” the man sighed. “Reno, is there anything you have in the slums that you want? Or need? Anything left behind?”

“Huh? Well, nah, not really,” Reno said. “I mean, I’ll need my clothes, I guess?”

“I can provide a change of clothing and any hygienic goods.”

“Then, no. I got nothing down there.” Reno stared at his boots, then looked up at the sky. “There’s nothing.”

Tseng nodded and they continued walking. Outside the open gates to Sector 0, they went down the street to a bus stop. Reno had not seen Tseng check his watch once yet they were just in time to catch the next bus. Reno sat quietly a while, amazed by the clean vehicle and its cleaner denizens. He stared out at the bustling city streets whizzing by. Huge screens flickered from ad to ad, marquees beckoned the masses to their various entertainments. No one idled, everyone walked with their heads held high with purpose. Even at this hour, there was no sign of the city slowing down to sleep.

“It’s like another planet,” he murmured. “Hey, is this Sector 4? Shit. I lived on the underside of Sector 4 for a while. My fam—I mean, I’m from there. Originally.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“So am I.” Tseng paused. “From the topside.”

“How ‘bout that?” Reno snorted. “All the time I was down there, you were up here living the life.”

Reno appreciated that Tseng made no attempt to downplay his better fortune. Nor did he bother with pointless apologies or lofty speeches about the unfairness of life’s inequalities. He nodded once, that was all.

“Now here we both are on this bus,” he said. “Life is funny that way. Like everyone is just barely balanced on the edge of the Plate.”

Reno looked stricken for a moment but quickly suppressed it. He leaned back, arms behind his head, stretching his long legs out into the aisle.

“Life _is_ funny,” he said. “Pretty damn funny.”

They got off at the second Sector 4 stop, around the corner from a quiet residential district. Through windows, Reno glimpsed families sitting down to dinner and TV screens. People here had backyards and small gardens, window boxes with real herbs and flowers. The street lamps chased the shadows away.

Down another block, the single- and double-family homes gave way to apartment buildings. There were less niceties but the buildings were all well-maintained. Tseng let himself into a trim brownstone building with a key. Reno hesitated for only a moment before following him inside. He was greeted by a carpeted foyer, brightly lit. The air was artificially cooled and smelled like expensive cleaner. They walked up several flights of stairs and down the hall, Tseng removing his keychain as they walked. He unlocked the door to his place and beckoned Reno inside. Reno’s stomach flip-flopped in parallel to when Tseng had zip-tied him. How long ago had that been? An hour? Two? It felt like a lifetime ago.

Tseng’s apartment was as chic and neat as he was. The furniture was modern, all hard edges, black wood, glass, and steel. Here and there were decorative touches that appeared to be heirlooms. In large standing vases that looked antique were several real plants, the leaves dark, healthy green. Reno walked around curiously, touching this and that. Tseng tossed his wallet and keys into a glass tray on the half-wall dividing the entrance and the small open kitchen. Reno came over and snatched the wallet out of the tray. With a playful grin, he avoided Tseng’s attempt to grab him and pressed his back against the door.

“I could just split, you know,” he said. “You really trust me up here, in your home? Some random kid from the slums?”

Tseng’s arms caged Reno against the door. Reno kept the wallet firmly behind his back. He grinned fully at Tseng, teeth white and the incisors sharp.

“You’d do all this for me?” Reno persisted. “Just because I got too emotional?”

“I’m trusting you, it’s true,” Tseng said. “Can’t you trust me?”

“Trust can get you killed down in the slums,” Reno pointed out. “Come on, Tseng. Tell me, really. Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

“I told you, I think that you could make the Turks.”

Tseng’s insistence faltered. He frowned, looking down. Reno moved closer and pressed the wallet to the man’s chest. Tseng snatched it and moved back. His face had turned a dim rosy shade.

“I didn’t want you to keep crying,” Tseng said. His cleared his throat. “I’m not … a bad person, Reno. I felt bad for making you cry.”

Reno wanted desperately to believe that. Tseng opened his wallet, sighed, and turned back to him.

“Even if you did deserve it,” he added. “The gil, Reno.”

Reno lifted the notes he had swiped from the wallet and Tseng snatched them back. He put everything neatly in place in the wallet. Giving the boy a look that dared him to try to take it again, he set the wallet back on the glass tray.

“Had to try,” Reno said with a sheepish smile. “What do you mean, you’re not a bad person? Isn’t that kind of … what was that word you used before? ‘Presumptuous’?”

“Is it?”

“It’s just, people aren’t good or bad.” Reno leaned against the half-wall beside Tseng. “People are just people, right? Besides, who cares?”

Tseng was quiet. There was that conflict in his eyes again. Something was bothering him, something he was either afraid or ashamed to admit. Reno was reminded that despite his mature nature, Tseng was only eighteen. _Guess even topsiders aren’t always sure of themselves,_ Reno thought. _How about that?_

Reno gripped Tseng’s tie and pulled him closer. Tseng pulled back but did not push Reno away. Reno saw his throat work as the man swallowed. The rose hue in his cheeks deepened.

“You’re not bad to me,” Reno said. “I guess, that’ll have to be enough, huh? I don’t think you’re bad.”

Tseng smiled, and this time it was effortless. The sorrow in his deep brown eyes softened. His features were radiant with pleasure, now freed of sternness and self-doubt. Reno’s heart and stomach tightened. His inhibitions and fear melted away. He rushed forward and brought his lips to Tseng’s. He felt Tseng’s smile twist, a moment of reluctance where his mouth almost closed. Reno wrapped his mouth fully around Tseng’s, the kiss messy and wild.

 _What the hell am I doing?_ Reno thought as his mind began to work again. _I’m going to ruin everything oh shit why would I do this please kiss me back, man, please, just kiss me back._

Reno was just about to pull away and apologize when Tseng buried his hand in his hair. Reno shuddered as Tseng’s arm slid around his waist. The man’s scent, still lightly mingled with flowers, filled his nose as the distance between them closed. Tseng kissed him back with desire so strong it was almost violently harsh. When he finally pulled back for breath, he looked mortified.

“Reno, I didn’t bring you here for this,” he said. “Listen, kid, I would never expect anything like this. I only figured you would need somewhere to sleep for the night so you could get to the Shinra Building in the morning. I would never demand—that is—”

“S’okay, s’okay,” Reno cut him off. He fumbled with Tseng’s tie until the knot came loose. “You need to relax, Tseng. I’m not doing this because I’m grateful. I mean, I _am_ grateful. But that’s not it.”

Reno put his arms around Tseng’s shoulders. Tseng ran his tongue over his lips, watching the lanky youth. Reno caught his tongue with a kiss, dog-like in its abandon. The tension eased out of Tseng’s rigid posture. Reno worked more at his tie, unbuttoned his shirt buttons. Tseng’s hands wandered down his waist to his slim hips. Reno ran his tongue down Tseng’s neck.

For the first time in months, Tseng thought of Rufus without regret or loneliness. He merely considered how vastly different from him this Reno was: he knew no restraint, led with his heart. He did not contest Tseng's dominance at all, rather he played to it, enjoyed it. He was almost _too_ enticing.

“You don’t have to do this,” Tseng said hoarsely. He swallowed. “Reno. We shouldn’t—wait, wait—I said, wait!”

Tseng pulled Reno’s head up by his shock of red hair. Reno ran a hand down Tseng’s shirt, rested it on his belt buckle. Tseng’s pulse was pounding in his veins and arousal was overtaking his reason. He had not expected the tables to turn so quickly, for this brat to break so completely through his defenses. If he was not careful, he would soon lose all control of the situation—and of Reno. After Rufus, Tseng did not want to sacrifice an ounce of control to a partner again.

Tseng drew a deep breath and loosened his grip on Reno’s hair. He ruffled it and held the side of his face. Reno was still except for the nimble fingers working to unbuckle Tseng’s belt.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Tseng said. “If you think that this will get you special treatment, it won’t. Whatever you’re up to, stop it.”

“But I don’t wanna stop, Tseng,” Reno whined exaggeratedly. He snorted and laughed. “Come oooon. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it?”

“I—This wasn’t my intention. I did not bring you topside for this.”

“You’re not saying ‘no’.”

Tseng’s mouth tightened in frustration. Reno unbuckled his belt. Tseng stopped him before he could open his fly. He turned the startled youth around and bent him over the low wall.

“Well this is familiar,” Reno remarked. He did not fight, merely crossing his arms beneath himself on the half-wall. “Like me this way, huh?”

Tseng sighed, brushing his hair off his face. For the first time in his life, he was completely at a loss. Reno did not act like anyone he had ever encountered before. He swung from brash to vulnerable, back again, and Tseng could not keep up. He could not even pinpoint when the attraction had flared up between them.

“This is ridiculous,” Tseng muttered. “We’re strangers. We only met tonight. It makes no sense. You were just some punk trying to rob me! I thought I was being nice, giving you a break, but—What the hell am I _doing_? What are _you_ doing?”

“I’m trying to make you happy!” Reno burst out, turning to him. “Don’t you want to be happy? Tseng? Just for a night, even? Just one crazy night like this?”

Reno reached out and removed Tseng’s suit jacket. His boldness was flagging due to Tseng’s rejection. His motions were careful, his face contrite. Tseng was relieved to have some control back but the subservience only made the kid more appealing.

“That was it,” Tseng murmured. “That was when it happened.”

“What was when what happened?”

 _It was when you cried on my shoulder, that was when I wanted you,_ Tseng thought. Instead of saying the words out loud, he pulled Reno into a smoldering kiss. _Ever since I joined the Turks, I’ve felt tainted. All I’ve done is disrupt lives. I thought that I could handle it and I can. But I don’t like it. I can’t be totally neutral, not yet. Veld says it will come in time. I hope that it will. But after that little girl shouted at me that way … After I saw the fear in her adoptive mother’s eyes … I needed to feel needed. And this brat just happened across my path. This unruly, disorderly, childish, adorable boy … needed me. And now I need him._

Reno let the question drop as Tseng finally let go of his reservations. His touch was tender but firm. The more Reno teased, the harsher the man became. There was no regaining the upper hand with him, Reno soon realized. As he relaxed into intimacy, Tseng’s natural assertiveness surfaced.

Reno gave up and submitted to him. He had never expected or wanted anything else. He wrapped his long, lean body around Tseng’s steely frame, enjoying the taste and feel and smell of him. He pulled off Tseng’s shirt, hand gliding down his back, tracing his muscles. His skin was smooth, unmarked and unblemished. The two years between them became apparent in Tseng’s fully developed musculature. Reno was still wiry with youth, more skinny than anything else. He wondered if he would grow into his body as elegantly as Tseng had. Probably not, he thought.

Tseng did not allow Reno to open his fly. Instead, he lay the youth down across his black leather sofa and stripped him. The flutter of helpless fear returned. He felt uncharacteristically self-conscious lying naked before this beautiful topsider. Was he giving up too much this time? Letting himself feel too strongly?

 _One night,_ Reno reminded himself. _It’s just one night. One crazy summer night._

Tseng climbed over him, closing the distance between their mouths. Reno greedily met his mouth, his tongue, wanting to savor every moment of their one night. _I’ll never be with someone like this again,_ he thought wistfully. _But at least, for tonight …_

There was a light thump as Tseng kicked his shoes off to the floor. He briskly finished undressing. Reno stroked his erection with his nimble, thin fingers. It was satisfying to watch the man’s fastidious control break with lust. He was flushed delicately all over, and Reno could feel his body shaking subtly with need.

Tseng abruptly forced Reno’s hands away and effortlessly flipped him onto his stomach. He climbed down from the sofa, bending Reno over it. Reno burst into laughter.

“You _really_ like this positi—ahh!”

Tseng entered him with merciless haste. Reno clung to the sofa cushion, biting his bottom lip. A hand ruffled his hair, partly comforting and partly possessive. He rocked into the youth steadily, until Reno was shouting in pleasure and pain. Rough as it was, Reno had never felt so connected to anyone during sex. He bucked into the man, hungry for more, all sense of limits gone.

To his chagrin, Reno came first. It expended every last ounce of his strength. Everything was a blur as Tseng finished enjoying his now-weakened body. The next thing he knew, he was being lifted up onto the sofa. He lay on his stomach along the length of it, hearing and feeling Tseng cleaning up. He felt lightheaded, boneless, and a deep, crushing sorrow began to fill his chest.

Tseng was returning from putting their clothing in the bathroom hamper when he heard Reno sniffle. He sat on the sofa beside him, rolled him over. Reno turned his face, swiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Are you crying again?”

“It’s just a reaction.”

Tseng turned Reno’s face by the chin. His eyes were moist. He lifted Reno up and held him against his chest, as he had in the slums. Reno threw his arms around Tseng’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“I don’t know why,” he confessed shakily. “I don’t know why you … make me feel like this. I don’t cry. I _never_ cry.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Reno looked at him. Tseng traced the tracks of his tears down his young, scarred face. He smiled gently and gave the boy a chaste kiss on the lips.

“I’m glad you cried,” he said. “I never would have brought you topside if you hadn’t. We would have gone our separate ways and gone on living in and below Sector 4.”

Tseng drew his legs up onto the sofa and lay down. Reno collapsed onto his bare chest, an arm slung around him. Tseng ran his hand up and down Reno’s long, skinny back.

“It wasn’t the spanking, was it?”

“No,” Reno said. “No, it was you. I think that I … I hated you when I first saw you coming out of that Wall Market bar. You looked so perfect, so … beautiful. All topsiders, you know, they come down to the slums even though they don’t have to. It’s like they’re visiting a zoo or something. They just glide in and out, enjoying themselves no matter which side of the Plate they’re on. And who can even blame them? Shit, I’d be the same way. But it makes you feel some kind of way, you know? Like the way the slums looked from that chopper: small, insignificant.”

“So you prey on topsiders?”

“Not only,” Reno insisted. A telltale smile tugged his lips. “Well, okay, maybe _mostly_. You guys can afford it.”

“Not all of us.”

“Whatever,” Reno said. “Anyway, yeah, I was jealous. I was jealous of you and I was jealous of topsiders and I wanted some easy money. And, I think, I just wanted to … to _affect_ you somehow, you know? I didn’t think we could cross paths in any other way than that. But I didn’t want to just let you pass by. I don’t know. I wasn’t really thinking all that clearly, I just, sort of, had to do it.”

“And then I caught you.”

“It was like losing to every topsider prick I’ve ever known,” scoffed Reno. “Er, no offense.”

Tseng just chuckled, shook his head.

“But it was more than that,” Reno said. “It hurt. I mean, physically, yeah, you hit freaking hard. I’ve taken a lot worse, though. It was you, the way you looked at me. Being treated like nothing but a punk child by _you_. That hurt. I don’t know. I never cry, really. I just lost it when you looked at me like that, like I was nothing.”

Tseng kissed his forehead. Reno hugged onto him more tightly. The apartment’s air conditioning dried the sweat on their skin. Reno still felt very warm in Tseng’s arms. Their limbs were intertwined. Reno played with a lock of Tseng’s hair idly.

“And now?” Tseng asked. “Why were you crying just now? You can’t possible think that I still see you as ‘nothing’?”

“Not tonight, no,” Reno said. He shrugged limply. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“No, it’s stupid. I don’t want to ruin tonight,” Reno said. “Just forget it.”

“Reno,” Tseng said sternly. “Tell me.”

“I was just thinking that it would … it would be easy to love you.”

Tseng raised his eyebrows. Reno sat up and hugged his knees.

“I told you, it’s stupid,” he hissed. “Just forget it. I know this was just a one-night thing. Probably the only really big mistake a guy like you will ever make. I know that. So just forget it.”

Tseng kissed his shoulder and ruffled his hair. He left the moody teenager on the sofa for a minute. Reno sighed, disappointed with himself for being so sappy. Tseng returned wearing black pajama pants, silk. He tossed a similar pair down at Reno.

“They’ll be a little short on you but they’ll fit,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll have a training uniform for you.”

Reno climbed off the sofa and slipped into the pants. Tseng put a hand on the small of his back and led him to the apartment’s single bedroom. It was a spacious room furnished in the same fashion as the rest of the place. The windows looked out onto the peaceful residential district outside, the glow of a streetlamp filtering in softly through the blinds.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Reno said. “You don’t have to let me in here.”

Tseng brought him over to the bed regardless. He sat down on the edge of it and pulled Reno down to sit on his lap. A scrap of lingering arousal stirred in Reno as he met the man’s gaze. Tseng stroked the side of his face and kissed him.

“Reno, what makes you think this is all just a one-night stand?” Tseng asked. “Did I ever say that? Did I even say that it was a mistake?”

“No, but … ”

“It _was_ a mistake, but not for the reasons you’re assuming,” Tseng said. “ _I’m_ the mistake. I mean, hell, what did I do? I was already feeling guilty, then I took my anger out on you just for trying to lift a wallet. When I made you cry, I felt even guiltier, so what have I done to prove I’m not a bad person? I’ve invited you to join one of the most dangerous divisions in Shinra and taken advantage of your vulnerable state. Don’t you understand? _I_ am _your_ mistake.”

Reno inhaled softly in shock. Tseng felt sorry for him. It had never crossed the boy’s mind that he had the moral high ground. He was so enamored that he couldn’t even see how awful Tseng’s actions and motivations were.

‘ _You’re a bad person!’_

Tseng stared at his hands, frowning. Reno’s arms went around his neck. The youth brought his lips to his, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“No, no way,” Reno said intensely. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Are you kidding? To even be here tonight, it’s amazing. Being with you is amazing. You’re not a mistake, Tseng. You’ve been too good to me.”

“I really haven’t,” Tseng said. “This has all been selfish of me. No, don’t argue. Don’t argue, it’s true. And it’s going to get worse.”

“What do you mean?”

Tseng lay Reno down on the bed. He knelt over him, arms caging the boy beneath him. His black hair fell in two curtains around their faces, blotting out the rest of the room.

“I don’t want this to be a one-night stand,” Tseng told him. “I know that it’s unfair to you. I know that it’s a cruel mistake. I know that it’s unprofessional and unreasonable. I don’t care. I want you, Reno. I would like to continue this.”

“How formal,” Reno said. “Tseng … I wish I could believe that. But you won’t feel like this in the morning. Trust me.”

“You’re being presumptuous again.”

“Yeah, well, time will tell.”

Tseng kissed him and lay down beside him. He knew that he would prove Reno wrong. There was no way that he would give this up—whatever ‘this’ actually was. He cared about this kid now. He cared about him more than he ever expected to. Being with him was the most out-of-character thing the level-headed youth had ever done, but Tseng could not see it as a mistake. The chaos Reno brought to his well-ordered life was just what he needed, at the moment he needed it most. For the first time since joining the Turks, Tseng felt fully human again.

Reno curled up with an arm thrown over the man. He still did not expect more from him than this one night. He had no right to. Regardless, he was determined to relish every moment he could with him. His stubbornness was no match for his fatigue, however. Blurry thoughts of his life before being orphaned floated through his mind as he began to drift. His last thought was that it was the first time since he was a toddler that he felt safe and loved in another human being’s arms.

_I missed that. I missed it so much. I could get used to it again, maybe._


	3. Never Going Back (Growing Pains)

Tseng awoke at the crack of dawn as usual. For a moment, he was stunned and confused by the skinny redhead sleeping in his arms. Where had this tangle of long limbs and spiky red hair come from? Why did holding him make a smile come to his lips?

Flashes of the previous night passed through Tseng’s mind: the light tug of his wallet being lifted from his pocket, tracking the kid down, the boy facing him with a belligerent grin and daring to yank on Tseng’s hair, spanking that attitude right out of him then feeling guilty when the boy broke down into abject sobs.

“Reno,” Tseng murmured the kid’s name. He stroked his back and hugged him to his chest tightly. “Ah, Reno.”

Tseng kissed the sleeping kid’s forehead. Reno snuggled close to him, muttering unintelligibly in his sleep. Tseng tugged down his pants and surely enough the redness had darkened to bruises. He pulled the pants back up, patted the boy’s bottom, and kissed him again. Reluctantly, he climbed out of bed.

Tseng showered, dressed in his slacks and shirt, and returned to Reno. He wished he could let the boy sleep but the Aptitude Test was early. He shook him by the shoulder. Reno rolled onto his stomach and groaned. He shook him harder and Reno pulled the pillow over his head. Tseng pulled the pillow off and gave the boy’s bruised bottom a hard swat.

“Aooow! Wha—?” Reno lifted his face, a streak of drool running from the corner of his mouth. “Huh? Who’re you?”

Tseng took his face in his hands and kissed him.

“Mmmmoohhh. Tseng.” Reno licked his lips when they parted and grinned sleepily. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” Tseng ruffled his hair. “Time to get up. The Aptitude Test is before noon. You’ll want to have eaten and gone over the rules with me before it starts. I left you clean sweats in the bathroom and anything you need to clean up. Breakfast will be ready by the time you get out.”

“Okay, boss,” Reno yawned.

“Save that until after you’ve passed the test.”

“Mm hmm.”

The boy was still sleepy but he climbed out of bed. He stretched his long arms and headed for the bathroom. Soon there came the sound of the shower running. Tseng left him to it and went to the kitchen. _I’ve never cooked breakfast for another person,_ he realized. _Rufus certainly did not need home-cooking, he keeps himself well fed at home, in restaurants._ _Why does it feel so intimate?_

Reno returned freshly bathed, wearing the clean black sweats. The baggy clothes made his skinniness more apparent and he seemed self-conscious of the fact. His hair was damp but still spiky, as if he had run the towel through it until it went on end. Tseng doubted whether it was possible for the kid to not look disheveled. Perhaps he simply preferred to stand out. He served Reno a plate and sat down at the small table with him.

“So this Aptitude Test, it’s really just a Turks entrance exam, right?” Reno said through a mouthful. “Is it like, fighting and stuff? There’s no math, is there?”

“No, of course not,” Tseng replied. “This is only the first test, there is a final one after you complete formal training, if you make it that far. The first round is combat, the second round is the obstacle course, and the third round is a mission simulation. It is very physically demanding so be sure to eat up and be smart about allocating your strength. Most candidates are too burned out by the third round to pass.”

“Mmm. You’ve put me at a disadvantage, you know.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m all bruised up.”

“Yes, I took a peek this morning.” Tseng smirked. “Sore?”

“Yeah.” Reno shifted. “So, you’ll give me some extra points to make up for it, right?”

“I’m not in charge of scoring.”

“But you’ll put in a good word for me, right?”

“I’m not giving you special treatment,” Tseng said. “I told you that before. Is that why you slept with me?”

“Nah, I’m just messing with you,” Reno said. “I can take it. Besides, there’s no way I’m going to fail this. I don’t care what I have to do, I’m _not_ going back to the slums.”

“That’s a good attitude for the Turks,” Tseng admitted. “Most of the test is designed to analyze how well the candidates follow orders. But don’t get too cocky. You won’t be the only one from the slums competing, and everyone has their own reasons for being there regardless of background. You have to be smart about your goals, attitude will only get you so far.”

Reno moved his chair closer to the window and opened the blinds. He stared out at the city, morning sunlight washing over it. The light made his blue eyes vivid.

“So what happens if I make it?” Reno coughed and corrected himself, “I mean, what happens _when_ I make it? You said there’s more training. You know I don’t have any money, right?”

“The Turks are highly specialized and very important, so Shinra does not charge training fees for suitable candidates,” Tseng said. “If you wanted to, they would put you up at the SOLDIER barracks until your training is complete. Then, if you pass the final test, you would get an apartment, and you would be on salary.”

“How much?”

Tseng told him.

“Haha! Sweet!” Reno crowed. “I’m going to be living the good life! I guess it’ll be the barracks until then. Not bad.”

“But.”

“Hm?”

“I was, ah, I was hoping that you would spend your training time here,” Tseng said. “With me. You should live here with me until your training is finished. It’s not so uncommon, you know, to take a recruit under your wing. For a short time, I stayed with Veld himself. It helps to familiarize you with the routine. Being a Turks is something of a lifestyle.”

Reno was staring at him with round eyes. For once, Tseng could not read him.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he said softly. “But you may, if you are so inclined.”

Reno finished chewing slowly and set his fork down. Tseng lowered his gaze to his own food. He wished the talkative boy would say something already. He hated to be made a fool. Why had he let himself talk so much?

“You—You still want me here?” Reno asked in a small voice. “With you? You’d let me live with you, here, all that time?”

“I—”

_Need you to need me._

“I like having you here, Reno,” Tseng said. “Before I joined the Turks, there was a time when all my expectations for the future changed. My plans, my orderly life, everything was suddenly gone. The Turks were literally my only option. I was no older than you are now. Since then, I’ve been living the way the job demands. I had a partner, but we … well, it ended. Since then, I haven't been inclined to seek out any company. But you, you’re different, Reno. If I had realized it in time to fight it, if you hadn’t been so bold, a million things might have ruined last night, but they didn’t. They didn’t, and you’re here, and I want you to stay here.”

“Oh boss … ”

“I’m not your boss ye—”

Reno leaned over the small round table and crushed his lips to Tseng’s. Tseng kissed him back fervently. When they parted, they remained forehead-to-forehead a moment.

“I hadn’t realized how lonely I was,” Tseng sighed. “This is … nice.”

“Mmm yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Now eat your food so you can pass that test and get the job, will you?”

Reno sat back on his chair and resumed eating. A mischievous smirk was on his lips.

“I dunno, do I even need to?” he said. “If you like me that much, maybe I can just stay here for free. You know, be your gigolo.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tseng said. “Then again, you said something like that last night, didn’t you? You said that you would do ‘a lot’ to stay topside. Would you? Sell your body like that?”

Reno blushed deeply.

“Oh, I see,” Tseng murmured. “You already have.”

“N-not a whole lot of times!” Reno protested. “That was why I tried to rip you off, because I didn’t want to do _that_ again. I stopped. I swear, I had stopped.”

“Reno, I’m not judging you,” Tseng said gently. “I wouldn’t judge anyone for doing what they had to to survive. I was just curious.”

“Yeah. Well. Yeah.” Reno stirred his food with his fork. “I did it sometimes, over in Wall Market.”

“You’re so young,” Tseng said. “When did it start?”

Reno was quiet.

“Reno, you’re going to have to be honest with me,” Tseng prompted. “Part of being a Turk is psychological fortitude, a big part. If I do become your handler, I’m going to need to know everything about you. And as your lover, I _want_ to know everything about you.”

“My lover, huh?” Reno smiled, though his face was still red and he could not meet Tseng’s eyes. “Okay, lover … I was thirteen the first time.”

Reno glanced up and caught the distaste on Tseng’s face. He hid it quickly but pity remained in his dark eyes. Reno lifted his face defiantly.

“Don’t look at me like that, I wasn’t a victim,” he said. “I knew exactly what I was doing. It wasn’t even a guy. It was a woman.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” Tseng said. “You were a child.”

“Technically, I still am,” Reno said. “And technically, you’re an adult. You don’t have much moral high ground here.”

“No, I don’t,” Tseng said. “Still. Sixteen is not thirteen.”

“She wasn’t a bad person,” Reno insisted. “I used to do some work for her at the food stand she ran with her husband. She would give me food for free from the day’s leftovers. But her husband was cold to her and she was lonely. She always said I reminded her of someone she loved as a girl, back in school, someone she never was brave enough to tell about her feelings. One night she was really sad and we were talking. And she sort of just came out with it, she offered me her savings to pretend to be her boyfriend. I think she wanted to feel young again, just that once. It was a lot of gil, enough to eat on for half a year. And I felt bad for her, you know?”

Reno could tell that Tseng did not know and would not care even if he did. Reno sighed, giving up on getting him not to judge the woman. Still, he continued, after chewing a few bites.

“I knew what she meant, of course I did,” Reno said. “But it seemed like a fair exchange. She was attractive still, and she really was nice. She was more nervous than I was, and forgiving. It became pretty obvious to me that I wasn’t attracted to women. But she guided me and I was young so I … you know. I did what I needed to.”

“Was that your first time?”

Reno hesitated, shifted. Finally, he confessed, “Yeah.”

Tseng leaned his face on his hand, too late to hide the scowl on his lips.

“My body’s the only thing that’s ever been worth anything down there,” Reno said. “I don’t regret being paid for my first time. Some of the other times, I regret, but not that time.”

“And the lady?”

“I think she did regret it,” Reno said. “She could never look me in the eye after that. I stopped coming by the food stand because I could eat well with that gil she gave me. By the time I finally did go back around to see if she was over it, they were gone: the stand, her husband, her, all gone. I heard rumors they went to live with her family in Kalm. Some people said they made it up to the Plate. I don’t know. I hope she got what she needed. I enjoyed the hell out of all that gil.”

“So you kept on?”

“No! Not … until I was fourteen.”

“Oh, Reno.”

“It gets ugly down there,” Reno said. “I’m not ashamed.”

“I’m not judging,” Tseng said. “But why were you on the streets all alone? Even if you’re an orphan, aren’t there care centers? Orphanages?”

“Those are for suckers,” Reno said immediately. “I crashed there sometimes as a kid but the teachers and the other kids get on my nerves. They’re all so delusional. And why waste time learning bullshit that isn’t going to get you fed or sheltered or topside? The most any of those kids can aspire to is being cannon fodder for the War. They might as well just watch Stamp cartoons and pick their noses until they’re old enough to join the military.”

“Ah, I see,” Tseng smiled. “You were too bratty to get along there.”

“I’m not _wrong_!”

“Not entirely, but you don’t know everything,” Tseng said. “Even topside teachers hate it when their students act like they know it all.”

“Did you learn that from experience?” Reno asked. “Because you’re kind of a smartass yourself.”

“Yes, but I know when and how to keep my mouth shut.”

Tseng stood, gathering his dishes. He kissed Reno’s forehead on the way to put the dishes in the sink. _Even after all he’s been through, Reno has a strong sense of pride,_ he thought. _That’s good. And now that he’s been reminded of how tawdry his life in the slums was, he’ll be all the more motivated to succeed at the Aptitude Test._

Reno finished eating and brought his plates to the sink. He hoisted himself up to sit on the countertop as Tseng washed up. It was such a comfortable act that Tseng had to remind himself they had only just met the previous night. In that moment, they might have been together for years.

“You still want me?” Reno asked. “Even knowing what I was? What I’ve done?”

“Why would the past have any bearing on the future at all?” Tseng asked. “Honestly, if you wanted to be a kept boy, I would probably keep you. But I can tell that you’re too vivacious for that. Too proud. I have no doubts about recruiting you.”

“And personally?”

“Personally, I like you,” Tseng said earnestly. “I want to be with you.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“What? Of course it does!”

“Does it really?” Tseng shrugged. “What should I do? Indulge you with compliments until you stop doubting yourself? Should I describe all the circumstances that led me down the road to wanting you? Isn’t it enough that we enjoy each other?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so. But—”

Tseng put a damp finger to Reno’s lips.

“No ‘buts’. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that,” he said. “Now get _your_ butt off the counter please.”

Reno jumped down. He had never been good with authority, so why did he instantly obey Tseng’s commands? Part of it was a lingering sense of fear; no matter how sweet he was being, Reno could not shake the feeling that he would turn on a dime if provoked. He also respected Tseng. Tseng’s strength was pragmatic and genuine, unlike so many of the losers in the slums that were all flash and needless cruelty. In his quiet way, Tseng was the strongest person Reno had ever met. He wanted to obey him because he wanted to impress him. Reno had never felt that way about anyone before. It galled him to be so needy but it was too late to change how he felt.

After finishing the dishes, Tseng led Reno into the living room. They sat down on the sofa. Tseng turned on the television to the news but kept the volume low.

“We have a little time before we have to leave,” he said. “I’ll tell you about my experience with the Aptitude Test. They change things up every year so it won’t be an exact indication of what to expect but it should suffice to familiarize you with the basic concepts. Now pay attention.”

“Yes Mr. Tseng,” Reno said in a childishly singsong voice.

“Do you want to be prepared or do you want to spend the rest of the morning over my knee again?”

“S-sorry!” Reno said with a nervous laugh. “Sorry. I forgot you’re bad with humor.”

“All right. Now, as I said, the test is divided into three rounds. Each round is designed to analyze a particular set of characteristics a candidate may or may not possess. These characteristics are vital to—”

Reno tried but failed to stifle a laugh. Tseng’s eyes narrowed. _He’s nervous and this is how he deals with nerves,_ he thought. _Not only that, but it’s basically ingrained in him to challenge authority with sarcasm. I don’t have time to humor him, though._

True to his word, Tseng pulled the boy over his knees.

“No, no, no! I’m sorry!” Reno protested. “You don’t have to do this! I’ll listen! It’s just—just that you sound so much like a teacher. But I’ll listen! I will!”

“Yes—” Tseng smacked his bottom. “—you—” Another smack. “—will.”

“A-aow … ”

Reno’s laughter ceased. Tseng only gave him a few spanks but he kept him laid over his lap. Reno crossed his arms on the sofa cushion and leaned his chin on them. Tseng resumed his explanation and Reno did not laugh again.

* * *

Two hours later, Tseng and Reno returned to the Shinra Headquarters. Reno was docile but excited for the test. Tseng was all business. Reno expected the test to be outdoors but they traveled to the physical fitness center on one of the higher floors. Reno was bouncing on his heels by the time the elevator reached its destination. The elevator doors opened to shouting.

“—acting like a damn child!”

“Is it childish to want to cut through all this meaningless red tape and do my job? Childish! I’m one of the only people in SOLDIER that can get through a battle without my hands shaking. Half the men have never even used magic!”

“I told you not to call it magic!”

“Who cares what it’s called? My point is, I need to be on the front line, and I don’t need any more of your stupid tests to get there. I am more than qualified, I have been training for SOLDIER my entire life.”

“You’re fifteen.”

“And better than anyone double my age. Ask Heidegger.”

“Heidegger doesn’t know you the way that I do. Besides, he would agree with me. Having a child at the front would be bad publicity, and he wants more time to test his mechanized weapons.”

“Those mere toys go down whenever a Wutai fighter throws Lightning at them. They’re worthless.”

During the ensuing pause, Reno was able to take the entire scene in. A man with stringy, greasy-looking long black hair and a white lab coat was arguing with the strangest man Reno had ever seen. He was very tall, well-muscled, and wearing a SOLDIER Second Class uniform. His profile was sharp, strikingly beautiful, framed by long, silky silver hair. He turned slightly at the intrusion and Reno was amazed by his eyes: vibrant green, the pupils appearing to be mere slits, like a cat’s. Reno froze instinctively beneath that gaze. Even Tseng’s spine stiffened, as the silver-haired man's eyes locked on him and narrowed.

“Dr. Hojo, Sephiroth,” Tseng said politely. “Excuse us, we’re on the way to the Administrative Research’s Aptitude Test in the gym.”

To Reno’s alarm, the silver-haired man pointed directly at him.

“The Turks recruit children,” he told Dr. Hojo. “You, how old are you?”

“S-sixteen.”

“Still older than you are,” Hojo said triumphantly. “Come along, Sephiroth. I told you that if you’re developing as planned, I will consider advising Heidegger to make better use of your considerable talents. But how will I know that you’re ready unless I can examine you, hm?”

Sephiroth gave Hojo a murderous look. Reno was surprised the man did not wither on the spot. Then Sephiroth’s shoulders slumped and the fire went out of him. He exhaled through his nose and waved a hand.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

The sorrowful resignation on the man’s face almost made Reno feel sorry for him. The lack of anger softened his shark-like features and made him look quite young. Nonetheless, it was hard for Reno to believe this Sephiroth person was younger than he was. He and Tseng watched until Hojo and Sephiroth were shut in the elevator together.

“Who the hell was that?” he asked Tseng.

“Sephiroth,” Tseng said shortly. “Let’s go.”

“But who is he? A SOLDIER? Is he really fifteen? Did you see his eyes?”

“I don’t know much about him,” Tseng said carefully. “No one knows much about him. He was raised by Hojo in the laboratory before becoming a ward of the Shinra family. He’s been training for SOLDIER ever since he was a little boy, I’m told. I think that he’s some sort of genetic experiment. There’s something not right about him.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Watch your mouth.” Tseng took advantage of the empty hall to swat him. “Sephiroth is stationed in Wutai, but I suppose he came back here for those regular exams Dr. Hojo gives him. Or to complain. He's been having … difficulties … in Wutai.”

Tseng thought back to the last time that he had seen Sephiroth, earlier that year. Rufus Shinra had demanded that Tseng and Heidegger hold the errant boy down over a table. Tseng had expected a fight but Sephiroth had submitted to Rufus's discipline—shocked as he was by it. The whipping Rufus had laid upon the youth was severe, but he seemed to have recovered the arrogance that so annoyed Rufus.

“I don't watch much TV but I think I've heard of him,” Reno said. “Holy shit. That's really him? Sephiroth? The One-Winged Angel?”

“That's him. I’ve seen him in action.” Tseng paused. “If we fought, I don’t know that I could win.”

“What? He's scary but he's even younger than I am!”

“He fights like no one that I have ever seen,” Tseng said. “I would hate to try him.”

“Good thing he’s not one of the Turks candidates, then.”

“Yes. Good thing.” Tseng shrugged. “It would be irritating to handle someone that difficult.”

“No taking that one over your knees, huh?”

“No, _I_ could never.”

Reno cocked his head at the emphasis but Tseng did not clarify. There was an odd smile on his lips. Reno had the feeling that he was keeping something about Sephiroth secret but set the matter aside. Tseng was clearly not attracted to the strange boy, and Reno had his own matters to think about.

At the end of the hallway was a large set of double doors. They entered to find a sprawling gymnasium. Nine people of varying ages and genders were lined up at the far end. Reno joined them, making a group of ten. Tseng joined several other people in Turks suits after a word to a tall, dark-haired man standing front and center before them. _That must be boss’s boss,_ Reno thought. _The Head of Administrative Research, Veld._

Veld soon introduced himself as such and curtly welcomed them to Shinra. Without preamble, he gave a short, sanitized description of the responsibilities of the Turks. Then he launched into an explanation of the test itself. Reno liked this: no bullshit inspirational talk, no pomp and circumstance, just business.

“The first round of this test will focus on testing your physical capabilities,” Veld said. “There are no weapons or Materia allowed in this test, it is pure hand-to-hand combat. A Turk has to be ready to defend themself at any time, in any situation, and without any form of assistance. You will be paired off. Upon defeating your opponent, you are encouraged to take on one of the other winners, however you must not interrupt any ongoing fight. All fights must be one-on-one, breaking this rule will disqualify you instantly.”

“How do we know a fight is over?” Reno asked. “Do we just knock the other person out or what?”

Several snickers. Veld frowned at him. Reno swallowed, wondering if he had spoken out of turn. He looked at Tseng but Tseng’s face was totally neutral.

“I was coming to that,” Veld said patiently. “Victory _can_ be determined by a ‘knockout’, in which case the supervisors will remove the candidate from the floor. However, forcing your opponent to tap out is generally the accepted method.”

“O-oh.”

“Is that all … ?”

“Reno,” he answered the expectant pause. “Y-yes sir.”

The tow-headed young man that Reno was paired with was still shaking his head when they squared off. His name was Johan and Reno could practically smell the money on him. He hated him instantly and knew the feeling was mutual.

“Another slummer huh?” Johan scoffed. “Like this company isn’t starting to reek enough.”

“Hope you prefer the stench of defeat, then, topsider,” Reno retorted.

Johan was a large youth. Reno could already tell he didn’t take him seriously and decided to count that to his advantage. He was shocked when he was barely able to dodge Johan’s first swing.

_He’s fast! Big guys never move that fast. Shit!_

Reno instantly realized why Tseng had been so stern with him. This was only a test but it was no game. Whatever had driven these candidates here, they were as set on succeeding as Reno was.

_And they all have the advantage. Hell, this topsider, of course he’s not just another big brawler from the slums. He’s probably had expensive martial arts training. A home gym to work out in. A crowd of friends in school adoring him. Parents that have told him he can do anything. Shit. Shit. Shit._

Reno was beginning to sweat and all he was doing was dodging the blows. Johan was not even frustrated, he stolidly watched Reno. He was testing him and analyzing his tricks. It would not be long before one of the blows landed.

Grudgingly, Reno adjusted his tactics. _This is gonna hurt._ Instead of dodging the next blow, he let it connect with his shoulder. Pain flared through him but he set it aside for the moment. Using the momentum, he spun around and used his good arm to elbow the man straight in the nose. The man grunted and Reno smelled blood. He quickly danced back from him.

For a moment, Johan clutched his nose. He was shocked when he drew his bloody hand away, then came the anger. Reno had been counting on that.

“Guess you don’t have to worry about my stench anymore, huh?”

Johan lunged at him. Reno shot around behind him and whirled a heavy kick directly into the man’s kidney. The man cried out and fell to his knees. Reno could not lose the moment. He was wary of the big man but jumped at him anyway. His arm encircled Johan’s neck and he pulled his head back by his sandy blond hair. He dug his bony knee into the man’s spine. The man struggled powerfully but Reno hung on with all his strength.

“Tap out,” he hissed, kneeing him in the kidney. “Tap out or I’ll strangle you.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.”

Reno applied more pressure around the man’s neck. He was beginning to think he really would have to strangle him and hoping that murder was allowed when Johan finally slapped the floor several times. Uncertain, Reno did not budge.

“He’s out.”

Reno looked up. Another candidate had a hand on his shoulder. He was very tall, bald, his skin a smooth golden brown. His voice was deep, faintly amused. Reno released Johan, pivoting away from him to be safe. Johan made to go after him but the bald man grabbed him by the arm.

“You’re out,” he said. “So get out of the way.”

The supervisors had approached. Johan scowled at Reno and stomped off the floor. The bald man was about to face Reno but then someone else attacked him. Reno was also drawn into another confrontation. After the large topsider, Reno had little trouble with the others. He was high on adrenaline and victory now.

“Where did you find this one, Tseng?” Veld said under his breath.

“Like he said, the slums,” Tseng replied. He allowed himself a small, proud smile.

As it turned out, it came down to Reno and the bald man. Reno was not so sure of himself with this one. The man’s easy self-assurance reminded him of Tseng: all the truly powerful people had the same quiet, natural confidence. He had handily defeated all his opponents without the humor in his eyes ever flagging.

“And you’re?”

“They call me ‘Rude’.”

“Huh. Well do me a favor and be polite enough to lose, okay?”

“I don’t think so.”

Rude had kept an eye on Reno during the disparate fights. The scrawny kid had started off by taking out one of the largest men there, immediately making Rude flag him as a threat. His fighting was wild, tricky, and completely shameless. Rude liked him but knew he would only beat him by giving him a dose of his own medicine.

Rude’s first move was a feint. If Reno had not fallen for such a trick with Tseng the past night, he would not have caught the feint soon enough to dodge the secondary strike. As it was, it was a near miss, and Rude recovered fast. Reno kept his distance, sobering.

_This guy is really good and he’s level-headed. I can’t beat him hand-to-hand, he’s expecting my tricks, and he’s not going to get pissed off and lose control like Johan. Shit just got real._

Nevertheless, Reno was determined to give it his all. Rude was holding back for some reason, but if those fists hit even once, it would be over. He gave Reno no opening so Reno knew he would have to make one himself. Rude was trying to restrain him so he decided to let him. Feigning unbalance after missing a punch, Reno let Rude grab him. Before he could get a good grip on the wiry youth, Reno slipped out of the baggy sweatshirt. He ducked through Rude’s legs to come up behind him. He put all his strength into kicking the man’s spine. Rude grunted and stumbled. Somehow he was still fast enough to avoid the next kick. He rolled around Reno’s long leg and they came face to face.

“Sorry, kid.”

Reno was unbalanced from the missed kick. Before he could move, Rude swung back and brought the back of his hand full across his face. It was not a punch but Reno still saw stars. He went spinning away from the man, hitting the floor hard. Dazed, he barely felt Rude pin his arm to the small of his back.

“Tap out.”

Reno meekly hit the floor three times. Rude released his arm and helped him to his feet. Reno was trying to keep the room from spinning, clutching his cheek. Rude gave him a sympathetic smile, keeping a hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall back down. Despite the pain, Reno knew the man had been easy on him. If he had used his fist, he would have doubtlessly knocked him out.

An air horn sounded and voices spoke. Reno could make nothing out, his head was still spinning. The taste of blood was in his mouth. Nausea overwhelmed him and he almost fell down again. Then Tseng was by his side, an arm under his shoulder. Rude’s hand withdrew.

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Tseng said gently. “Come on. Careful.”

Reno remained dazed as Tseng led him out of the gymnasium. Without the adrenaline rush, all the myriad bruises on his body began to ache genuinely. He shook violently, alternating between being too warm and too cold. Fortunately, there was an infirmary nearby. He was sat down on a bed. Cure Materia was used. The pain subsided somewhat. Still, his cheek had to be bandaged where Rude’s knuckles had broken the skin, and his lip was split open. Tseng drew the curtains around the bed closed and sat down beside Reno. He stroked a hand over his forehead, through his hair.

“Poor thing,” he said. “Rude is one of Veld’s finds. It isn’t difficult to see why.”

“Did I do enough?” Reno asked. “To pass the first round?”

“You were the second-to-last one standing,” Tseng said. “Yes, Reno, of course you did enough. But no one gets eliminated in the first round. Fighting can be taught if a candidate excels at the other two rounds.”

“Oh so that Johan guy isn’t out yet? Just great.” Reno sighed heavily. “That was intense. And we gotta keep going?”

“The next round will be in two hours,” Tseng said. “You should rest.”

“Mm.”

The curtain opened. Tseng immediately stood. Rude was there, looking awkward. He stared at Reno, glanced at Tseng, and looked at Reno again.

“ … Sorry,” he finally said.

“Why?” Reno asked. “We were there to fight. Anyway, you held back. Why would you do that?”

“I don’t like beating up on children.”

“I’m not a child,” Reno sulked. “How old are you then?”

“Eighteen.”

“Tseng’s age,” Reno reflected. “S’alright. I got no hard feelings, er, Rude. Besides, I am faster than you, so I’m going to beat you in the obstacle course.”

Rude made a small sound that was almost a laugh.

“Okay, kid.”

“Not if you don’t get any rest,” Tseng told Reno. “Sh sh sh. No, be quiet. Just rest, all right?”

“Sure, boss.”

Tseng and Rude left him. Tseng marveled that Rude was practically untouched; he did not even need medical care. They stood outside the infirmary in the hall together.

“You didn’t hold back because of his age,” Tseng said knowingly. “Why did you?”

“He reminds me of someone that was important to me,” Rude said slowly. Another long pause. “Someone that’s no longer with us.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You care about him, too.”

“I—recruited him. He’s my responsibility.”

Rude said nothing. Tseng knew he did not believe him. He made a mental note to lie more efficiently. Shinra, Inc. did not take its policies regarding employee relationships seriously at all, but Tseng wanted to maintain some professionalism.

“Will they hold it against me?” Rude inquired. “The fact that I went easy on Reno?”

“I doubt it,” Tseng said. “You did what was necessary. Although the directive was to fight, remember that anyone who passes the test will be a Turk, and the Turks must all work together. It’s better when recruits get along.”

“That’s good. I’m going to get lunch.”

With that, Rude left. Tseng hoped that he would pass the Aptitude Test. He thought that Rude would make an excellent Turk, and one less troublesome than Reno at that. Not that he could complain, being so allured by Reno’s boisterous personality.

Tseng went down to the cafeteria himself. Reno would do well with a small snack and a Potion drink before starting the obstacle course. The quiet lounge area by the vending machine was not empty. For the second time that day, Tseng happened upon Sephiroth. He was sitting on the bench beside the machine, hugging his knees miserably. The vending machine’s lights made his eyes seem to glow. Despite his height and strength, he looked as much the sullen teenager as Reno sometimes did. Tseng recalled that look clearly from Wutai. Not for the first time, he felt a little sorry for the young soldier that had stolen Rufus Shinra's heart.

“Hello, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth lifted his face. His mouth turned down and his eyes narrowed. Tseng could tell that he recognized him and was not pleased by the memories Tseng's presence drudged up. Tseng kept his distance. Rufus could handle Sephiroth, but he knew he could never command the same respect.

“You’re one of the new Turks, aren’t you?” Sephiroth asked. “That pilot of Rufus's.”

“Tseng.”

“I don’t bother learning unimportant names.”

Tseng's sympathy was significantly lessened by the remark. Still, he did not leave. He was still Rufus's friend and concerned with Rufus's life. He was interested to see if he could glimpse what Rufus saw in temperamental Sephiroth. Surely, the youth was beautiful—unearthly so, even—but the attraction went far deeper than the physical. In fact, Tseng was certain that Rufus had not even made love to Sephiroth yet.

“That isn’t the way a future hero should talk.”

Tseng turned around to find Vice President Rufus Shinra at his shoulder. He gave Rufus a slight nod of respect. Rufus's blue eyes lingered on him for a moment, then turned back to Sephiroth. It was petty but Tseng was pleased to have caught a flicker of loneliness in Rufus's gaze. So, he was not the only one mourning the end of their relationship.

Tseng expected a retort from Sephiroth but he only scowled. Rufus sat down on the bench beside Sephiroth and stared intently at him. He obviously wanted to touch him but would not in the public space. Tseng suspected that they had not seen each other since Rufus had disciplined him in Wutai.

“Still a child,” Rufus said wistfully. “You haven't made First Class yet, have you? Don't tell me that you're still acting out over that?”

Sephiroth’s hand balled into a fist but he still said nothing. Rufus gave in and reached out to ruffle his hand through Sephiroth's silken hair. Sephiroth stared at his hands, frowning.

“Or is this only more of your rebellious phase?” Rufus pondered. His hand tightened, gripping the long hair. “Are you really nothing more than a common, rebellious teenager deep down after all?”

“ _No_.”

“Then why do you insist on acting like one?” Rufus asked in exasperation. “You're … You're almost a man, Sephiroth. Why do you keep acting like a child?”

“Stop _treating me_ like a child, then!”

Sephiroth pushed Rufus back and roughly twisted his hand out of his hair. He did not release his longtime friend. His green eyes lit with a look Rufus had never seen aimed at him before: joyfully sadistic. He turned Rufus's wrist until Rufus thought he might break it. Tseng stepped forward but Rufus held up his free hand. He met Sephiroth's cold green eyes steadily, stifling the pain and fear.

“Let me go,” Rufus said, calm but firm. “Sephiroth, let—me—go.”

Sephiroth searched Rufus's eyes. Rufus knew that he was trying to uncover the fear the youth must have sensed, despite his effort to hide it. He was like a shark scenting blood. Rufus lifted his free hand and slapped it across Sephiroth's face, hard. Tseng blinked in surprise. Sephiroth released him at last, clutching his cheek in shock. Rufus ran his hand through his hair, which had fallen into his eyes, and lifted Sephiroth's face by the chin. He was deeply shaken but refused to back down.

“What have I told you?”

“That … that I … belong to Shinra.”

Rufus's fingers caressed the soldier's reddened, stinging skin. Sephiroth's arrogance was gone. He bit his bottom lip, only for one brief moment, and Rufus was relieved to see his old childhood tick.

“That’s right,” Rufus repeated, “and _I_ am Shinra.”

“Not yet.”

Rufus narrowed his eyes. _Not this again._

“I told you, not yet.” Sephiroth pulled back. “You’re not President yet. I don’t serve _you_ yet.”

Sephiroth stood. He stared down at Rufus for a moment. Tseng caught a glimpse of hurt and sorrow in his eyes. Then he swept off. Rufus remained staring at his palm. He clenched a fist then shook his head.

“I thought that I had cured him of this,” he said. “I shouldn't have … No. No, he needed to be put in place—again. He's still testing me. He _won't stop_ testing me, why? I have to … I can't let him affect me this way.”

Rufus was talking more to himself than to Tseng. Tseng stood by him patiently. He had spent many long hours listening to Rufus reflect on Sephiroth, his eyes always taking on this very faraway expression. Although he kept his features calm, Rufus looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders when he got this way.

“I've devoted so many years to him,” Rufus said. He finally looked up at Tseng, gave him a rueful smile. “You've been the best thing to happen to me, and … I gave you up. I even gave up the one thing that I had for myself, for him. For Sephiroth.”

Rufus stood up, crossed his arms.

“Well, I'll see what is was all for someday, for better or worse,” he said. “I can't do much more than wait for that day right now, can I? How are you, Tseng? The Turks have more tests going on today, don’t you?”

“Yes. I was just going back to them, Mr. Vice President.”

“Make sure you train your people well,” Rufus said. “That way, at least you can say that you did your best, even if you are eventually disappointed.”

“I will.” Tseng stood in front of him. “Take care of yourself, Rufus.”

“Thank you, Tseng.”

Rufus left. Tseng watched him go, digesting what he had seen. Then he retrieved a Potion from the vending machine, ordered some food, and went to return to the infirmary. By the windows near the elevators, he spotted Sephiroth staring out blankly at Midgar. He hesitated, then went over to him. His cheek was red and his face was wet. Tseng wondered why Sephiroth kept testing Rufus when he knew the consequences. It was amazing that he dared to defy the Vice President after the beating he'd given him in Wutai.

Tseng offered him the Potion. Sephiroth looked down at him in surprise, hastily wiping his face and eyes. Tseng could see confusion warring with reticence plainly on his features _._ He took the Potion and unscrewed the cap as he stared at Tseng. He slowly took an experimental sip.

“It isn’t poisoned.”

“I know that,” Sephiroth said coldly. He took a long drink, his temper subsiding. “Thank you.”

 _No apology, though._ Tseng nodded. Sephiroth turned his gaze back to the windows.

“I used to live in this building,” Sephiroth said suddenly. “I was Hojo's lab specimen until I was ten years old. Then I met Rufus, and he … he was my friend. He saved me from Hojo, took me into his own home. I … I was happy there for those three years … I … ”

Tseng knew that he had to tread carefully. He could not side with Sephiroth over Rufus, but he did not want to alienate him. If Sephiroth opened up to him, perhaps he could help him get along with Rufus. Although they were no longer together, Tseng did not like to see Rufus suffer over this green-eyed brat.

“You're still a ward of the Shinra family,” Tseng reminded him. “Rufus's home is your home. He is still your friend. If you are not happy in SOLDIER, I'm sure he would understand.”

“No, I _am_ happy in SOLDIER. Not 'happy', but … it's where I belong, it's what I am,” Sephiroth said. “I belong in First Class. Then, perhaps … ”

“Perhaps, what?” Tseng asked, genuinely curious. “What do you _want_ , Sephiroth?”

Sephiroth drew a deep breath and shook his head. He looked so miserable that Tseng sympathized with him again. He moved closer and put a hand on his strong shoulder. Sephiroth's mouth tightened in sorrow and then he shrugged it off.

“Do you want Rufus to love you?” Tseng asked. “Is that it? Do you think that he doesn't anymore?”

“I don’t know,” Sephiroth said. “He’s changed ever since we’ve gotten older. The stronger I get, the more obedience he demands.”

Tseng thought of the way Rufus had stroked his hair, the undeniable desire in those otherwise icy blue eyes. Sexual tension. Was Sephiroth blind to it? Afraid of it? Why was Rufus holding back? Was it really due to his age, or was it something else?

“I don’t think it’s about your being in SOLDIER,” Tseng said. “It’s about you.”

“Me? Well, I suppose that I have changed.” Sephiroth touched his cheek. “He says that I’m arrogant. He isn’t the only one. I’m not trying to be arrogant or difficult. I’m frustrated.”

Tseng assumed teenage sexual frustration. Then Sephiroth went on.

“My entire life, I’ve only known this city,” he said. “I was excited to join SOLDIER. I wanted to go out and see the world. I wanted to fight for something, to be a part of something. I thought that … I thought that I would feel something.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

Tseng’s blood ran cold. Sephiroth looked so mournful that Tseng had to be certain of the implications.

“You don’t feel anything about the war?” he pressed. “War can be noble and exciting to some, but it isn’t easy to deal with. People are hurt. People die. Families are torn apart. It is difficult and ugly. Haven’t you felt any of that?”

“No.”

“Not even when you’ve fought other men?” Tseng asked incredulously. “Not even when you’ve killed?”

“No, nothing. I don’t feel anything.”

Tseng kept his face carefully sympathetic even as he suppressed a shudder. It was chilling enough to think of this mere child taking lives, but doing so apathetically? Tseng wondered exactly what kind of monster they had created. Was this why Rufus was so careful of Sephiroth?

“That’s why I thought that maybe in SOLDIER First Class, at the front, I could … ”

Sephiroth trailed off. Tseng knew he was wasting his time, that there was nothing he could do for this youth. A little guilty about his loathing, he reached up and put a hand on his shoulder again. This time, Sephiroth tensed, his posture combative. _This isn’t a boy,_ Tseng thought, _he’s a weapon._

“You’ll make First Class before long,” Tseng assured him. “However you feel, or don't, you're a gifted fighter.”

“I hope so. I hope it’s enough.”

“You’ll do great things,” Tseng said. “Be patient. You have all the time in the world.”

“Time … ” Sephiroth stared out the window. He smiled a little. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I do have that. Time.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Tseng said. “I have to get back to oversee the tests today.”

“Oh. All right. Thank you, er?”

“It’s ‘Tseng’.”

“Thank you, Tseng.” A slight bit of mischief played on the boy’s lips. “I might remember your name … this time.”

“I’d be honored,” Tseng said dryly.

Tseng left the boy staring out at Midgar. He got another Potion from the vending machine and made it into the elevator without further issue. _Kids today,_ he thought wearily. First, Aerith had denounced him as a bad person. Then, Reno tried to rob him and ended up seducing him. Today, Sephiroth had dismissed him as nobody important. _I feel old._

* * *

  
  


Reno was awake by the time Tseng returned to the infirmary. He was holding an ice pack to his face but was much recovered. He gratefully took the food and Potion. Tseng closed the curtains to give them privacy. In a very low voice, he explained what he had witnessed between Sephiroth and Rufus Shinra. He still did not tell Reno all he knew about Rufus and Sephiroth; he was not sure whether Reno could be trusted with those secrets yet.

“So the Vice President likes that weird guy from SOLDIER?” Reno asked. “But Sephiroth only wants to be in First Class. You don’t think he wants Rufus? At all?”

“I don’t think he even comprehends the way Rufus feels,” Tseng said. “He is not totally soulless. He seemed genuinely hurt by the way Rufus treats him lately and he is obviously very frustrated and sad. But he has very little empathy. By his own admission, fighting in the war, even killing in the war, doesn’t move him at all.”

“You sure he wasn’t just trying to sound cool?”

“No, he was being sincere. He even sounded regretful.”

“Freaky.”

“Yeah.”

“How the hell could the VP slap someone like that?” Reno asked. “I’d be scared to death of him.”

“I think that he is,” Tseng said. “If I had to guess, I would say that Rufus Shinra wants Sephiroth because he is that powerful. Dominating the mighty is what the Shinra family does. At the same time, he knows enough to fear what Sephiroth is capable of. So, he’s training him, the way he trained his monster dog that Hojo bred for him. I suppose he figures that by the time he inherits the company, Sephiroth will be obedient enough to submit to him in every way.”

“Kinky.”

“You’ll find that most people working here on the highest levels have one kink or several,” Tseng said. “It seems to be a requirement for upper management.”

“Guess you have nothing to worry about then.”

Reno laughed his sarcastic, gleeful laugh. Tseng cracked a smile and allowed himself a chuckle. He could not deny a streak of sadism. It was the urge to punish Reno’s naughtiness that had brought them together in the first place. Even without Sephiroth, Tseng knew that he and Rufus, two sadists, were doomed to break up.

“Neither do I, come to think about it,” Reno said. “You think I could be in upper management? If you lead the Turks someday, I could be your second, right?”

Reno jumped down from the bed, stretching his limbs. He was sore all over and his face still hurt, but the dizziness was gone. He was aware of Tseng’s cool gaze sweeping over his figure as he limbered up. They had brought him a new sweatshirt but he had yet to put it on. Due to his thinness, his sweatpants hung very low on his waist.

“Focus on the second _test_ first, Reno,” Tseng said. “We’re both a very long ways away from any promotions, and don’t you forget how tough the real job is going to be.”

“Yes boss.”

Tseng pulled him closer by the waistband of his pants. Reno slung his arms around Tseng’s neck and, grinning, leaned into a kiss. Tseng was careful of his split lip and bruised cheek.

“It’s almost time,” he said. “I mean it, don’t get ahead of yourself. And be careful. This isn’t a combative test but it’s still very physical. Don’t get hurt.”

“I’ll do my best, boss,” Reno said. “Besides, I have a score to settle with the bald guy.”

“Okay.” Tseng stood, patted Reno’s bottom. “Let’s get to it.”

Reno put on the sweatshirt and downed the last of his Potion. Tseng was relieved to see his energy restored. He had worried that the shock of Rude’s blow might have taken the wind out of the boy’s sails but Reno was resilient. His feisty zeal was refreshing after the conversation with cold, sad Sephiroth.

The obstacle training course equipment was set up in the gymnasium. The room had been transformed into a course that was part maze and part battlefield. There was little for Veld to explain, as the object was simply to clear the course as fast as possible. He did warn that no physical contact was allowed between contestants. At this, Johan glowered at Reno. Reno smiled, tongue out like a dog panting for a brief instant. The big man almost trembled with fury.

“Antagonistic little thing, isn’t he?” Veld asked Tseng.

The supervisors were watching from a raised platform, so that they could oversee the entirety of the course. A few agents were scattered around the course, ready to break up any trouble that might occur.

“He lacks discipline,” Tseng said. “I only found him last night. If he makes it, there will be time to smooth out the rough edges. He isn’t stupid, though. He uses his belligerence like a weapon, and he knows when to pull it back. As for that attitude, he practically runs on it, and it sees him through well enough.”

“It takes all kinds,” Veld allowed. “How did you find a candidate after only a single night?”

“He tried to lift my wallet,” Tseng said. “I followed him through the Sector 5 slum. He actually tried to fight me for it. Of course I took him down but I could see his potential. So, I brought him topside with me, got him a last-minute physical examination, and enrolled him for the Aptitude Test.”

“You’ve taken quite a gamble on him.”

Tseng bristled inwardly at the word. He did not think that it was chosen at random. Veld knew that Tseng's family debts came from his father's gambling habit. The very debts that the banks had called in when the War with Wutai broke out, due to the family's Wutai heritage. Veld was not being malicious, but he had a habit of testing his recruits on a psychological level when they least expected it.

“No,” Tseng said evenly, “it wasn’t a gamble, it was a calculated risk. And it seems to have paid off. He’s left all the other candidates in the dust in this round.”

“He is impressive,” Veld said. “He isn’t only one of the fastest recruits I’ve ever seen, he’s smart. Good at thinking on his feet. He doesn’t have the highest threshold for pain but he will do with some endurance training. Pairing him with a serious heavy-hitter would balance his faults out.”

Tseng nodded, triumph surging inside. If Veld was already assessing Reno’s place in the Turks, there was little doubt the kid would make it. The two men watched as Reno made his way through the obstacle course. He moved with the same feline confidence with which he had wound his way through the slums with Tseng’s wallet. True to his word, he cleared the course before Rude, or anyone else. Tseng climbed down from the platform and came to his side.

“That wasn’t so bad, boss,” Reno panted. “Piece of cake, compared to the first round.”

Tseng wanted badly to hold him and kiss him. If they were alone, he would have taken him right up against the climbing wall he had just jumped down from. He settled for squeezing his shoulder.

“Well done, Reno.”

Reno beamed proudly, smile lopsided due to his bruised face. It had been years since anyone had praised him beyond the overly saccharine platitudes of the Leaf House teachers. The approval was all the sweeter coming from this man he was quickly falling in love with.

“Congrats.”

Rude slapped Reno on the back, but lightly. Reno's smile widened.

“Told ya I would settle the score!”

“You did.”

“Hell yeah! What’s next, boss?”

“Settle down,” Tseng laughed. “The final round won’t take place until this afternoon. It’s the most difficult one, so everyone will get a chance to shower, eat, freshen up. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria when you’re done, all right?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Reno headed for the showers with Rude, chattering away. Rude was a man of few words but he didn’t seem to mind. Tseng made a mental note that they might make a good team if they both got through. Chemistry like that was difficult to come by in such a competitive, nasty field.

Suddenly, there was a flash of black. Tseng whirled around to find Sephiroth standing below a secondary observation platform. Despite his weight, he had landed without hardly making a sound.

“Sephiroth, I didn’t see you there,” Tseng told him. “Have you been here the entire time?”

“I came in shortly after it started,” Sephiroth said. “This is good training. Perhaps I should have been a Turk.”

“Power like yours isn’t meant for the shadows.”

Sephiroth lifted his head, pleased by the compliment.

“No. I suppose not,” he said. “But I was bored, and—I needed somewhere to be.”

 _He was trying to avoid running into Rufus Shinra again,_ Tseng surmised. _I can’t blame him for that. Rufus can be harsh with him._

“I think that Hojo or Rufus got word back to Heidegger,” Sephiroth said. “I was supposed to fly back to Wutai today but he’s put me on leave for a week. I never expected war to come with so much political nonsense.”

“War is basically _all_ political nonsense, Sephiroth,” Tseng said. “Now that Shinra has practically replaced Midgar’s government and is on its way to becoming a global superpower, everything we do is political.”

“Even the Turks?”

“Especially the Turks,” Tseng said. “Then there are the internal politics at play: relationships between the Heads of Departments, employee relations, PR. You’re young but you’ll learn.”

“I know about it, I've studied these things. It's infuriating because it's so pointless,” Sephiroth said. “I have power, I should be allowed to use it.”

“Without orders? Or restraint?”

“Why not?”

“You sound just like a kid,” Tseng chuckled. “Walk with me.”

Tseng walked without waiting for a reply. He was aware of Sephiroth's hesitation, but soon he was following him out of the gym. Tseng recalled Rufus once mentioning that Sephiroth responded to strong command.

“Do you even understand the War in Wutai?” Tseng asked. “Do you know why Shinra, Inc. is fighting?”

“Because they’re refusing to let Shinra build a Reactor,” Sephiroth said nonchalantly. “They’d rather get themselves and others killed than simply convert to Mako Energy.”

“It’s more than that,” Tseng said. “Wutai will lose everything by giving in to Shinra: independence, culture, everything. Shinra will do to it what it has done to countless other territories: drain it of its resources and throw it away when it is all used up. Those people are fighting for their land, their culture, and their freedom.”

“You make Shinra sound wrong.”

“I am not saying that anyone is right or wrong,” Tseng said. “That is simply the reasoning behind the War. You aren’t fighting faceless monsters or brainless fools, Sephiroth. They’re just people, people like myself and the other employees here.”

_Why couldn’t I say ‘you and I’? Oh well. I doubt there is anyone quite like Sephiroth out there. He’s a strange one._

“Politically, Shinra cannot afford Wutai to remain autonomous,” Tseng continued. “As Mako energy becomes the standard and Shinra becomes more powerful, anti-Shinra sentiment has grown stronger. Even in Midgar, there are groups that are pointing to the overcast sky and desert land around Midgar as signs that Mako Energy is harmful to the Planet. These sentiments are being inflamed by those that have lost everything due to Shinra’s conquest: the old political regimes of territories now under Shinra control, fossil fuel industry tycoons and workers, those that have been hurt in Reactor-related accidents, and more. Many of these people, enemies of Shinra, have taken refuge in Wutai. Their money and knowledge have coalesced into a powerful force, backed by Wutai itself. The war is already three years gone. Imagine if it had started a decade down the road?”

“Wutai would be even stronger and more of a match for Shinra.”

“Exactly.”

“So this War was inevitable,” Sephiroth said thoughtfully. “Wutai can’t afford to be subjugated by Shinra, and Shinra can’t afford to let Wutai remain autonomous. Neither side is wrong, each is only doing what they have to do to preserve their identities.”

“Yes.”

“But one side will win in the end,” Sephiroth said. “My job isn’t to moralize about it. My job is only to make sure that Shinra is the side that wins. I don’t care about the rest.”

“It’s because you don’t care that you need to follow orders,” Tseng said. “You just proved my point entirely: you are a soldier, not a politician.”

“Very clever,” Sephiroth muttered. “You sound like Rufus now.”

“A soldier’s job is to obey.”

“Hmph.”

They got into an elevator. Tseng swiped his keycard, pressed a button. Sephiroth stared moodily out at the city again.

“Rufus doesn’t only want me to obey him as a SOLDIER.” Sephiroth gave Tseng a hard look. “But you know that, don't you?”

The boy’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Tseng did not have to ask what he meant. He pressed the ‘emergency stop’ button and the elevator halted. Sephiroth did not look at him. Tseng waited, hands in his pockets.

“Wutai was not the first time that Rufus has punished me,” Sephiroth said slowly. “I had a tendency to put down bullies with violence when I was younger. I would like to say that I couldn't help myself, or that I never meant to, but I knew exactly what I was doing. I enjoyed it. Rufus caught me every time. He was the only one who even suspected. He always made me promise not to do it again, and I always broke that promise. The first time, he only used his hand. It hardly hurt. The second time, he used a hairbrush. It hurt. Wutai was … the third time … and the worst.”

Sephiroth folded his arms across his chest, leaning his forehead against the elevator’s glass wall.

“I never minded,” he confessed. “I've deserved it, every time. That isn't what bothers me about it.”

“What is?”

“After the second time, when I was twelve, I … ” Sephiroth shut his eyes, exhaled. “I kissed him. He was going out all the time that year, with friends and … girlfriends. I missed him. I wanted him close, as close as a person can be. And after he punished me, he was there. He held me like when I was a child. But he would not kiss me back.”

Tseng was silent. _Three years ago,_ he noted. _Rufus gave up his girlfriends for me around that time. Sephiroth doesn't know that, or he wouldn't be opening up to me now. I had better speak to Rufus. I don't think it would be good for Sephiroth to find out about us._

“I wanted him again, in Wutai.” Sephiroth rubbed his forehead between his furrowed brows. “I thought that he felt it, too. But he said that I'm still a child.”

“You are only fifteen.”

“I'm old enough,” Sephiroth said. “Rufus was dating at fifteen, probably earlier. He admitted that three years ago, that he enjoyed being with his girlfriends sometimes, physically. If I _belong_ to him, why won't he have me?”

Sephiroth bowed his head, fists balling on the elevator wall. Tseng could see pain contorting his face in his reflection. Sephiroth swallowed hard and drew a deep breath.

“Why am I telling you this?” he murmured. “I … shouldn't be telling anyone this.”

Tseng remembered being gentle with Sephiroth in Wutai. He had even put a hand comfortingly on his head while he sobbed from the spanking. Sephiroth certainly had remembered him. This time, the youth did not pull back when Tseng put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Tseng said soothingly. “Go on. I won’t tell anyone else. I’m a Turk, secrets are our business. You can talk to me, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth faced him. He slid to the floor and held his head in his hands. Tseng knelt down beside him.

“If Rufus saw me as a brother, then I would understand it,” Sephiroth said. “But we were never raised as brothers. I was a ward of the family, and a friend of his. People say that it is natural for friends to grow up to be lovers. People marry their friends from school or from next door, don't they? I know that I'm … a man, and … Rufus has to be 'perfect'. But I would keep it a secret. He knows that I would. Do you think that's why he won't have me? Because I'm a man?”

“No, I don't think that's it,” Tseng said. “I think that he finds you to be too immature, that's all. You've been acting out to get his attention. It's juvenile.”

“He won't get close to me otherwise.”

“And when you're not close, you miss him, don't you?”

Sephiroth stared at his hands, abashed. Tseng rubbed his shoulder briskly. _So, he is human after all,_ he thought. _But only when it comes to Rufus. Those two … is it love or obsession? I saw it every time Rufus talked about him when we were together, the unhealthiness of it. Not that I'm one to judge._

“I don't feel that way about anyone else,” Sephiroth said. “I was close to our caregiver, Ms. Ami. I have comrades that I respect in SOLDIER. But when I'm bored and alone, all I think about is Rufus.”

“Then you get angry, you lash out, Rufus finds out and punishes you, and he's there again,” Tseng said. “He's with you. That is why you keep acting out, isn't it?”

Sephiroth said nothing.

“It _is_ childish,” Tseng told him. “I think that if you can break those old habits, Rufus will respect you. When you no longer act like a child, perhaps he will see you as a man that he can love.”

Sephiroth lifted his face to Tseng’s. This time, it did not take effort to smile at him. It was good to see that Sephiroth loved and hurt the way any human being did.

“Do you think so?”

“I do.”

“Why? Why do you care? You don't even know me?”

“That isn’t important.”

“I called you unimportant,” Sephiroth reminded him. “You don’t think that I deserve all this? To be punished? To be unloved?”

_A little bit._

“No.”

For a moment, Tseng worried that those green eyes could see right through him. But Sephiroth’s muscles eased and he smiled a little. He stood, brushing his long hair off his shoulders. The emotion was already fading from his face. Tseng wondered whether it was repression or something else that allowed such a young man to shake feelings off like a cloak.

“Well, thank you,” Sephiroth said. “I … I don’t know why I’ve said so much. To you.”

“Probably because I am unimportant,” Tseng said. “Sometimes it is easier to speak with a stranger than a friend.”

“Friend?”

Sephiroth gave a one-note, bitter laugh. In that moment, his cynicism could have shamed Reno’s. Both young men were damaged, Tseng realized. Reno dealt with the world with a wild passion, whereas Sephiroth preferred to hide his feelings until he no longer could. In that way, Reno was stronger, at least in Tseng's mind. While Tseng was able to repress his own emotions as necessary, he never stifled his passions so much that they grew too heavy to carry. Sephiroth had yet to learn how to regulate his feelings instead of suppressing them.

“I don’t have any friends,” Sephiroth said. “Rufus is something else entirely, now. But I won’t forget your name again, Tseng.”

“I’m glad.”

Sephiroth released the ‘emergency stop’ button, allowing the elevator to resume its course. Tseng knew that cameras were trained on the elevators. He wondered what he would say to Veld after having stopped them twice in as many days.

“Join me for lunch,” Tseng offered. “Reno is coming.”

“No, I need to … I need to take care of some things,” Sephiroth said. “I’m tired.”

Tseng nodded. The elevator stopped. Sephiroth went out first. He gave Tseng a ponderous look, then headed down the hallway. Tseng exited the elevator and turned in the direction of the cafeteria.


	4. Unnecessary Risks

Reno was surprised not to find Tseng waiting for him in the cafeteria. He had dragged Rude along with him, after chatting the man’s ear off in the showers. Despite the blow that had nearly knocked him out, Reno liked Rude. He just thought the guy took himself way too seriously.

“If I was as strong as you are, I wouldn’t give a shit about anything,” Reno said through a mouth full of food. “And I don’t get you. You’re hardcore but you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met in the slums.”

“I’m not from the slums,” Rude said. “Topside has its share of hardened characters. I was a bouncer for a while, topside, in certain districts. Teenage rebellion.”

“You? Rebellion? Why?”

Rude was quiet for a long time. Reno bounced on his seat a few times. _How does Tseng wait everyone out like this? This guy is driving me nuts._

“I hated Shinra for a while,” Rude finally said. “My older brother, he—”

Another pause. Reno stuffed his face during the silence.

“My older brother joined SOLDIER and he died in a conflict,” Rude said. “I admired him. He was full of ideals and energy. You … ”

“Mm?”

Rude smiled down into his bowl of food.

“You remind me of him, a little,” he said. “So full of life. Always running your mouth off. Yeah. He was like that.”

“I remind you of a dead guy?”

Rude frowned at him.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean—Sorry!”

“Just can’t help it, can you?” Rude said. “I was angry at him, too, for a long time. Took to the streets. Did a lot of work there.”

“So how come you’re joining Shinra now?"

“Got caught.” Rude shrugged. “Shinra’s anti-crime initiative snared me. I can’t even hate them anymore. My brother made his choices. I chose this recruitment over prison. In the end, if we both end up being okay with our choices, isn’t that the only important thing?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Reno said sagely. “If you survive, all you can do is keep surviving, right?”

It was a glib way of looking at things, but the kid was not entirely wrong. Rude did not challenge him. Tseng seemed to materialize out of the bustle of the cafeteria and joined them. Rude did not miss the way Reno’s bright turquoise-blue eyes lit up, nor the satisfied gleam of propriety in Tseng’s brief glance at the boy.

 _So that’s how it is,_ Rude thought. _How about that._

“Good afternoon, Reno, Rude,” Tseng said. “How are the tests treating you?”

“Doin’ good, boss!”

“I’m managing.”

Reno, with his bandaged and bruised face and split lip, gave Rude a startled look. Then he burst into his sarcastic laugh.

“Managing!” he chortled. “Fucker doesn’t have a scratch on him! Ah ha ha! Ow. Ow.”

Reno’s grin had reopened the gash on his mouth. Tseng moved to wipe the blood himself but ended up handing Reno a napkin. Reno dabbed the blood off, tongue swiping out to lick it away. His knuckles pressed tightly against the side of his nose and his eye. He had made it through two rounds but he was hurting pretty badly. Rude lowered his gaze. He did not regret what he had done, but he did not like seeing the boy in such pain because of him.

“I should probably prepare you both for the third and final round,” Tseng said. “This is the most important test that candidates face: a completely simulated mission. The technology was rudimentary two years back when I partook but, from what I’ve heard, it’s come a long way. You will be in a virtual environment but your physical state will not be altered.”

“So it’s a videogame,” Reno said.

“It is _not_ a videogame,” Tseng replied. “Remember, all candidates will be participating. While the world you are immersed in will be false, your competition will be very real. Weapons, Materia, everything is permitted in this round. When an opponent hits you, that will not be part of the simulation: you _will_ be damaged. Understand?”

Reno swallowed. He was not the worst off of the candidates but he was feeling the strain. His muscles were taut, in the last stage of tension before they collapsed into jelly. His face hurt, his lip kept bleeding, and his nose felt very fragile. He also had made an enemy of that Johan topsider, who would smash him the very first chance that he got. The other candidates, besides Rude, were not fond of him, either.

“I don’t need weapons,” Rude was saying, “and I’m not familiar with Materia. I won’t need anything.”

“Everyone is encouraged to fight as comfortably as possible,” Tseng said. “In this mission, you will be issued full Turks uniforms. You may choose any equipment from Shinra’s wide array. The objective is to complete the mission as a Turk should. That is, your priority will be to achieve whatever goal is set out to you, at any cost.”

“That’s a lot,” Reno said. “Sounds intense.”

Reno was a little pale, only picking at his food. _At least he appreciates the danger,_ Tseng thought. _He’s brash, cocky, and big-mouthed, but he’s not stupid._

“Do or die, though.” Reno smiled as best he could. “It’s this or the slums. I’m _not_ going back. And I won’t disappoint you, boss.”

“Good luck, Reno.”

Reno smiled. He stirred his food around for a moment. Then his usual attitude returned to hide away any trace of the vulnerable boy still lurking inside him. Although he had eaten more than his scrawny frame would suggest he was capable of, he shoved more food into his mouth.

“So you said that being a higher-up in Shinra requires having a kink,” he said. “Right, Tseng? What kinks do the bigshots have? Do you know?”

Tseng was reminded of Sephiroth and Rufus. He inhaled deeply and made a mental note to never tell Reno what he knew. The boy had a streak of the gossip in him. Rude was surprised by the question but waited expectantly for the answer.

“Reno, discretion is the better part of our job,” Tseng scolded. “I suggest you keep whatever is told to you in confidence—”

“President Shinra is a total freak,” Reno said. “We hear about him all the time in Wall Market. High-end escorts, you know? And Palmer, the, uh, what? Space guy, right?”

“The Head of the Space Program,” Tseng said. “Reno, you can’t speak this way about—”

“Yeah, him!” Reno laughed. “The Honeybee Inn girls are his addiction! Man! He’s always down there. I think I’ve heard he helped _fund_ it. Or something. That guy, Corneo, the new big guy, some people say he’s Palmer’s bastard kid. I thought about trying to rip off Palmer but you can’t mess with Corneo in Wall Market because—”

“Reno!”

Tseng did not shout but the severity of his tone stilled the boy instantly. At the sight of his raised hand, Reno’s shoulders hunched. He shrank into his chair, docile as a schoolboy. Rude had been trying to figure out how a man as lovely, genteel, and soft-spoken as Tseng could be a respected member of the Turks at such a young age; now, he knew the answer.

Tseng lowered his hand and gave Reno a disarmingly kind smile. His eyes remained stern. Reno swallowed.

“That’s enough,” Tseng said. “It’s almost time.”

“Y-yes boss.”

Reno polished off the rest of his food in silence. Tseng briefly rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he stood. Reno followed and Rude went after them both. Rude noted the way Reno slouched behind Tseng, both wary and admiring of him. Reno had none of the other youth’s calm confidence.

 _I hope the rumor about having to face superiors is not true,_ Rude thought. _I’ll have to prepare myself adequately, if there’s a chance that I’ll have to fight this Tseng. But that would be in the final test, after training. Better just focus on this entrance exam._

They candidates were brought to a very different room from the gymnasium. Through steel double doors on the opposite side of the same floor, they came into a laboratory-like space. There were large screens and keypads lining the far wall. It was a narrow space, with another set of doors across the strip of walking space. The candidates were lined up. Reno and Rude joined them. Tseng took his place with the other supervisors. The candidates were sent into the locker rooms, and returned in uniforms, fully equipped with their choices of weapons and Materia.

As Veld explained the final test to the candidates, Tseng let his eyes wander the room. When he had taken the virtual test, it _had_ been very much like a videogame: none of the stimulus could quite equal its real world equivalent, the candidates could not physically affect one another, and the virtual space had been blocky and surreal. The advancements that had been made disturbed him a little. Once again, he was reminded of Sephiroth, the lab experiment.

 _Sephiroth asked me why he cannot use his power without restraint, without direction,_ Tseng thought. _I could not tell him the truth. I had to reign him back in, for Rufus's sake if anything. But the truth is that Shinra does exactly that: they use their near-limitless power without restraint, without direction, doing things simply because they_ can _. That must be what draws Rufus to Sephiroth. It’s almost animal, two apex predators fighting for ultimate dominion._

Reno shot Tseng a small smile full of forced bravado. Tseng wished that he could return it. The kid was clearly unnerved. Tseng had faith in him. As long as he did his best, Tseng would do everything in his power to see him through. Reno had already done very well in the first two rounds. He only needed to get through this one decently. Tseng hoped Reno knew this and would not take unnecessary risks.

* * *

  
  


The candidates filed into the second room. The space was immense, dim florescent light barely illuminating the vast light gray walls. Reno was getting jumpy from adrenaline and nerves. He hated the Turks uniform and undid several of the stiff white shirt’s buttons. He had left the tie behind. He had goggles but kept them on his forehead, lifting his wild red hair out of his eyes.

Beside him, Rude took his place. He wore the full suit, tie included, with a black shirt rather than white. His hands were gloved and his eyes were hidden behind sleek sunglasses. He wore the suit as if it had been made for him.

Reno was about to ask Rude how he could stand the uniform when everything went white. He sucked in a breath and heard others reacting with stifled grunts and exclamations. For an instant, his feet left the ground. He thought that he saw a veil of mist and caught a whiff of strange chemicals. Then, everything went dark.

Reno came to without the usual grogginess of drugs. In fact, his senses were heightened. The sterile room was gone, replaced by a chaotic battlefield. He ducked instinctively as a bomber plane shrilled by overhead. An explosion made him run for the nearest cover. His nerve-endings were set on fire by adrenaline and fear.

_Virtual. Simulation. Not real. Not real. Focus. Focus._

Reno was torn between expected and perceived reality. He hunkered down behind a pile of debris and screwed his eyes shut. His body and mind hummed, completely out of sync. He wanted to throw up but fought the urge back.

<“Your objective—”>

Reno jumped as the voice sounded in his ear. That was right, they had been issued ear-pieces. The pieces could be tuned to receive the frequencies of other candidates, if anyone had the need. The voice was Veld’s.

<“Your objective is to reach the Pagoda Tower’s top floor and retrieve the Full Cure Materia. The object must be obtained at any costs. You have thirty minutes. Good luck.”>

Reno rubbed his bottom lip so hard that it bled. The pain and salty taste of blood centered him. Simulation or not, he had to accept this as the current reality. The clock was ticking and he could not let this final round ruin him. Still, his legs shook as he got to his feet. The gunshots, shouting, explosions of bombs—it was too real.

No time to marvel at Shinra tech, Reno told himself. He looked around. The Pagoda was across a narrow strip of battlefield. That would not be much of a problem (he hoped those gunshots were truly virtual). The problem was that he glimpsed the other candidates coming to on the battlefield, and knew some were already on the move. That was the real minefield: his opponents.

Reno sprinted—not towards the Pagoda directly. His speed was his best attribute, and he intended to use it. By taking a longer route, he could avoid the others. Getting caught in an all-out confrontation would be a waste of time, especially in his state. The obstacles on the battlefield were no problem at all and would cost him far less time.

The time the long route cost Reno turned out to be too much. He glimpsed the Pagoda just as several other candidates were running inside. It should have been no problem, but then the unexpected happened.

A tremendous explosion blasted the Pagoda from view. Reno was stunned to feel the heat on his skin, to be knocked off his feet by the pressure. He sat up choking and coughing, dust clogging his throat and making his eyes fill with tears. He looked up to find a wall of earth shielding the Pagoda entrance. Entangled in the unnatural formation were tanks and soldiers, their digital substance flickering like glitched video.

A strong hand took Reno’s arm and hoisted him to his feet. Reno cleared his lungs with a big cough and spit dust from his mouth. Rude was by his side. The deeply troubled frown on Rude’s face did not bode well.

“What the hell?” Reno gasped. “Someone has Materia like that?”

“No,” Rude said. “This is more than the test.”

Reno opened his mouth to question further but Rude held an arm out before him. The gesture was protective. Reno followed his gaze and his eyes went wide.

Sephiroth stood in front of the walled-off Pagoda. He was no longer in the SOLDIER Second Class uniform, but wearing black street clothes. His long silver hair whipped wildly around him in the wind but otherwise he was perfectly still. The mocking smile on his lips made Reno’s blood boil and his stomach tighten.

“Oh. Now this _is_ fun,” Sephiroth said. “You Turks have a very nice playground here. But it’s not quite authentic. Why don’t I show you?”

Sephiroth reached back and withdrew a long, glittering blade. Reno’s temper chilled and he took a step back. Rude lifted his arm, still thrust out protectively, but the motion lacked his usual confidence. He seemed uncertain, or afraid.

“We _cannot_ fight him,” Rude said quietly. “Run.”

“Run where?”

“Left.”

“Why?”

“Just go!”

They sprinted as Sephiroth ran towards them. Reno only caught a flash of silver hair and steel, but it was enough. The kid was deadly fast. Reno no longer cared about the test, he only wanted to put as much distance between Sephiroth and himself as possible. Rude was of the same mind. They dashed with all their strength around the Pagoda. Lungs bursting, Reno stopped, leaning on the Pagoda wall to catch his breath. Rude was also feeling the strain.

“What … is … his … problem?” Rude panted.

“He’s batshit crazy,” Reno muttered. “Forget him. We still have a mission.”

“Right.”

They looked up. There was no back entrance to the Pagoda. The only opening was an open window on the second floor, high above.

“Look, Tseng—Tseng said that accomplishing the mission is always the first priority of a Turk, right?” Reno prompted.

“Yeah.”

“At all costs, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re never gonna make it alone,” Reno said. “Neither of us can get up there, and that weird-ass kid is swinging his big-ass sword around to kill.”

Rude swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Meanwhile, those other assholes are already in there going for the Materia,” Reno said. “But if we accomplish the mission together, we’ll still come out on top!”

“ … Yeah?”

“Yes!” Reno shouted. “Rude, please, let’s team up. We work together, we might get out of this without losing limbs and maybe even win the whole thing! If we don’t, we’re, well, fucked.”

Rude recalled what Tseng had said: at the end of the day, they were all Turks, and they would all have to work together. He was not keen on standing around as a target for the silver-haired boy, either.

“Yeah,” Rude agreed. “But how is teaming up going to get us in there?”

“Gimme a lift, would ya?”

Rude boosted Reno up onto both hands. Reno wobbled but maintained his balance.

“Now. Throw me.”

“What?”

“Throw me! Up there, at the window! This is gonna suck but throw me as hard as you can, up there.”

“Reno—”

“Do it!”

The boost would not work for such a large distance. Rude took the skinny kid by the waist and chucked him into the air with all his strength. He watched him fly wildly, hoping he hadn’t just killed him.

Reno hit the window hard but he managed to grab onto the sill. He hung suspended over the air for a moment, fighting for breath. He managed to look down at Rude and grin, give him the thumbs up. Even two stories up, he could see the other man relax. He climbed in through the window and collapsed on the floor.

_Can’t this be it? The test should just end here. Why the hell are they letting Sephiroth mess with us like this? Is he part of it? Or what? Let it end, just let it end …_

Reno knew it would not end. He picked himself up and blew out an annoyed breath. The room was empty, as if staged for a fight like some old movie. That was not good. Reno ran through it, knocking over every crate and barrel he could find.

 _I can just leave Rude out there and go for the Materia myself. That’s what I would usually do. Survival of the luckiest and all. But he held back. He didn’t have to do that. One punch would have incapacitated me all day. I wouldn’t even have this shot. He’s okay. No one’s been nice to me since_ — _Tseng and Rude are_ — _They_ —

“Ah ha!”

_They’re my friends._

Reno ran to the window. He was alarmed to see a thin black shadow steadily approaching Rude. He tossed out the rope he had found in a hurry.

“Rude! Behind you!” he shouted down. “Get the rope! I’m gonna secure it! Get the damn rope!”

Below, Rude whipped around. Surely enough, the weird young man with silver hair was coming towards him. It was disturbing how slowly he paced, in no rush to continue his antagonization, assured that he would finish it.

 _That smile,_ Rude thought. _This is just a game to him. He’s having fun. But that sword isn’t virtual. He could kill us for real. And still, he’s just having fun. I've seen footage of Sephiroth fighting in Wutai. Everyone topside knows about the One-Winged Angel. I can't believe he's this young … or this dangerous. He isn't out of control, he knows what he's doing, and he doesn't care. So, the Shinra elite still can do whatever they want, huh? The more things change …_

Rude gave up any thought of testing the kid. He ran to the rope and grabbed it. Reno shouted down to him to climb, and so he did. Below him, he heard the earth grumbling. He resisted the urge to look down and see what Materia Sephiroth was using now. There was no point. Either the attack would knock him off the rope, or not.

Rude made it through the window. Reno knelt beside him, asking if he was okay. He nodded. It took a moment to stop his hands from shaking. No one had rattled him that badly in a very long time. From down below, the sound of laughter.

“He’s crazy,” Rude said.

“Yeah,” Reno said, echoing Rude’s deep monotone.

Their eyes met through Rude’s sunglasses and they shared a laugh.

“Thought you might leave me down there for a minute.”

“Crossed my mind.” Reno stood up, stretched his arms. “But there’s no way I can take on those other assholes alone. Besides, you’ve got sunglasses.”

“So what?”

Reno grinned. He clapped Rude’s shoulder and nodded at the stairs. Rude took the lead, fists curled. Reno took out a baton and snapped it into its full length. The other candidates had been busy. They found unconscious figures on the third and fourth floors. Whatever the conclusion, they would find it at the top.

The fifth floor was unnaturally quiet. This floor was lavishly decorated but its center was clear. Reno saw the Full Cure Materia’s green hue glowing from the far end, in a glass display case. The weird green glow reminded him unpleasantly of Sephiroth’s eyes. Reno entered the room cautiously, baton at the ready.

“Maybe they all took each other out,” he said. “Who knows? Maybe we got lucky for—urk!”

If Reno had not been talking, Rude would not have been alerted in time. He lunged out of the way as a fission of electricity coursed towards him. Reno was not so lucky. He shook violently, encased in pure blue energy, eyes wide. He gave a choking cry and fell to the floor. He did not move save for involuntary muscle twitches.

Rude let his temper flow just enough to empower him. He crushed the screens and decorations. The opponent tried to hit him with Lightning Materia but he was alert to the threat now. Finally, the other candidate rolled out.

Johan stood before the case holding their target. Seeing him again, Rude was amazed that Reno had even dared fight him, let alone took him down. The man had brass knuckles, which he banged together. The Materia shone in its slots.

 _Reno exposed his weakness already,_ Rude reminded himself. _He’s vain. I should say something offensive. … But what? Damn it. I need Reno’s mouth._

“You scared?” Rude asked. “Can’t even take down a skinny kid like that without using Materia?”

The taunt worked. Johan shot electricity at Rude again, an easy attack to dodge. Rude used the opportunity to move closer to him. But there was motion in the corner of his eye. Not just Johan, then. The remaining candidates must have also teamed up and Rude did not know how many there were or what they were capable of.

Reno coughed. His body was rubbery and sore. He flipped over and stared at the ceiling. The sounds of combat brought him back to reality. Rude was going at the big topsider, Johan. The other candidates, three of them, kept butting in, chipping away at Rude’s defenses. Reno shakily got to his feet and reached into his jacket.

“H-hey!” he called to Rude.

Rude rolled away from Johan and looked at Reno. Reno slid his goggles down over his eyes.

“Sunglasses, remember?”

Reno tossed something into the air. A brilliant flash of light filled the room with a loud bang. None of the others had protective eye gear, and they were all stunned. Rude’s fists flew into Johan without mercy. Reno steadied his baton and attacked the others. His temper overrode his pain and fatigue. It was all over by the time the white light faded.

Reno snatched the Full Cure Materia from its case.

“Ha!” he shouted triumphantly. “Looks like we’re victorious! Now can we get out of here?”

His strength faded and Rude had to catch him. He gently took the Materia from his hand and held him close. Reno was shaking uncontrollably. The scenery faded until they were back in the plain gray room. The other unconscious candidates were sprawled out around them. Only one other figure remained standing.

Rude held Reno more tightly, one fist raised. Sephiroth looked around at the others with dispassion. He caught Rude’s eye and merely blinked. The doors opened and the supervisors came in, along with the boss Veld and Shinra security. Tseng let go of all pretenses and ran to Rude and Reno. Rude tossed the Materia at Veld.

“There’s the target,” he said. “This kid needs medical attention.”

Reno jerked violently and his knees gave out. Rude picked him up in his arms. Tseng pushed the goggles off his eyes and stared at him. Rude could see the man at war with his emotions, the strain of holding back his affection.

“Take him, please,” he told Rude. “Just go.”

“Yes sir.”

Tseng rubbed the bridge of his nose, collecting himself. Then he whirled on Sephiroth. Veld was already yelling at him. Shinra security lingered behind him, guns aimed but afraid to touch him. No one was unaware of the long, sinister blade in its sheath on Sephiroth’s back: the Masamune, which had been forged specifically for him.

Tseng stood before the youth. He wanted to slap him as easily as Rufus Shinra had. Sephiroth gave him a curious look. It took all of Tseng’s effort to keep his voice level.

“Why would you do that?” Tseng asked. “Unauthorized personnel are barred from taking part in these tests. You have no interest in the Turks. Why would you interfere?”

“I was bored,” Sephiroth said. “This was … entertaining.”

“ _My_ department is not here for your entertainment,” Veld seethed. “How _dare_ you—”

“This isn’t a matter for us,” Tseng said. “His … discipline … is up to the company. Call … ”

Tseng paused deliberately. Sephiroth’s nonchalance gave way to uneasiness. _He knows that if I call Rufus Shinra, he’ll have to answer to him,_ Tseng thought. _He had to know that might happen. Does he want to be punished again? Even after our conversation, he can't help himself, can he? I should call Rufus and let him beat the hell out of him, that brat._

“Call … Heidegger.”

Sephiroth’s relief was palpable. _Was he testing me?_ Tseng wondered uneasily. _I was kind to him earlier. Was he actually testing how far I would go if he angered me? So, Rufus isn't the only one he plays these games with._

“Tell Heidegger that a SOLDIER belongs on the battlefield,” Tseng suggested to Veld. “There was no harm done, after all.”

“Don’t you _ever_ come near my department again,” Veld told Sephiroth furiously. “And don’t think that I won’t tell Heidegger about this.”

The medical team had cleared the floor of the other fallen candidates. Veld stormed out. The security followed. Sephiroth and Tseng stood alone. Tseng kept his hands behind his back, fists locked together so tightly his circulation began to suffer. Tension rippled through him in hot, rolling waves.

“They’re all so young, passionate,” Sephiroth said. “It reminded me of how I felt before joining SOLDIER. Before the War.”

Tseng eyed him warily. Sephiroth sounded too battle-weary for his age.

“I really thought that I could feel something, out there, fighting,” Sephiroth said. “I thought that I could feel the way these people feel.”

“Is that why you pulled this?” Tseng asked. “You’re jealous?”

“No, not that,” Sephiroth said. “Curious.”

“Curious?”

“SOLDIER training should be this elaborate,” Sephiroth said. “The simulation of Wutai is a little lacking, but it’s still a far cry from the guttural mess of SOLDIER. I have to take orders from men who can’t hold their guns steady, men who falter and fail and fall at every single challenge. Politicians and fools and cowards. And Rufus. And Hojo. They’re all so tiresome.”

Sephiroth turned to Tseng. His seriousness faded some. There was no guilt or shame, but there was a plea in his eyes. _He wants to be understood,_ Tseng realized. _All of his outbursts … it's that simple, isn't it? He wants to make us understand how he feels, but he isn't usually comfortable explaining it. So he gets attention the only way he can … through violence._

“I wasn’t going to hurt anyone,” he said. “I only wanted to see how they would react to real combat. Your protegee did well. Does that make you happy?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Because … no one has ever been happy when I’ve done well,” Sephiroth said. “It’s always … expected. Even Rufus, sometimes I wonder if he cares at all … ”

Tseng was tempted but he refused to feel sorry for him.

“I have to go,” he said tersely. “My people are in the infirmary.”

“Yes. Tell those people out there to reboot the simulation. I want to test the parameters for a while.”

“All right.”

Tseng left the strange boy to himself. He told the technicians what Sephiroth demanded and left them to deal with it. He briskly walked down the halls to the infirmary. Reno had already been treated and was asleep in a bed. Rude had a few bandages and was perched on a chair at his bedside. He stood respectfully when Tseng approached.

“How is he?”

“He’s never been hit with magic,” Rude said. “That was a Level Two Lightning attack. It took a lot out of him, sir.”

“Call me ‘Tseng’,” he said. “There is no doubt whatsoever that the two of you will be official Turks trainees. You were the best of the lot, even with the unforeseen circumstances.”

“That silver-haired soldier?”

“Sephiroth.”

Tseng stood at Reno’s bedside. Despite Rude’s presence, he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Reno’s color was normal but he was brutally battered. _He looks so young. Too young for all of this. He wants the job, I know he does, but should I have given him this shot? A shot at what? Violence? Misery? Then again, he wouldn’t have anything better down in the slums. Still, seeing him like this, knowing he’ll get worse in the future … Maybe I should just keep him at home. My little gigolo. If I thought he would be happy with that, I’d give it to him. But he wouldn’t. He’s proud. Not proud and arrogant like that damn Sephiroth, just proud enough to have some dignity left. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since we’ve met and I already care about him this much …_

“Do members of SOLDIER usually get to do whatever they want?” Rude asked.

“Sephiroth was raised by President Shinra himself,” Tseng said. “He was raised until ten in the laboratory in this very building. He belongs to Shinra. Yes, he is a special case. He could get away with a lot, despite … everything.”

“Shinra has changed.”

Tseng nodded. He could not have summed up his inner turmoil better. Rude was his own age. During their youth, Shinra had been a beacon of progress. Mako Energy truly had changed the lives of millions of people for the better. The world had previously been a stagnant mess of geopolitical conflict driven by the fossil fuel race. Technology had plateaued, people were out of work, out of money, starving and homeless. Shinra’s Mako Energy breakthrough had changed everything, offering a new era of hope, a new standard of civilization. They reshaped the world in the image of Midgar, the finest city ever built.

The bright light of civilization always cast a dark shadow. Tseng was not blind to the cost of Shinra’s ascent. However, their ambitions recently were becoming more and more skewed. The subjugation of Wutai was an ugly necessity, true, but Shinra’s methods were uglier. Sephiroth, child SOLDIER. The SOLDIER branch itself consisted of Mako-infused recruits destined to die of Mako poisoning. There were rumors of even more clandestine combat units being trained. Heidegger was using the War as an excuse to unleash all kinds of Mako-powered robotic weaponry. Necessity could only excuse so much. Shinra, Inc. had gone beyond the point of rational necessity by anyone’s standards. The future they had once made seem so bright was noticeably dimming.

 _And I’m part of it,_ Tseng thought. _A willing part. I'm a personal friend and former lover of the Vice President. I’ve brought Reno into one of the most dangerous departments of the company. One day, I will bring Aerith in. That girl was right. I am bad. But … I don’t know or care if I could ever have been ‘good’. Reno was right, it’s not all black and white. I can’t afford to think that way anymore. Morality is a luxury only the insignificant can afford. And whatever Sephiroth thinks, I won’t be unimportant forever._


	5. The Future of Shinra

Tseng spent the entire day at Reno’s bedside. Reno slept for so long that he fell asleep in his chair. Rude left them to their privacy early on, returning only to bring Tseng coffee and check on Reno. Night fell. The Mako-powered lights of Midgar turned on. The infirmary’s lights dimmed and the blinds were closed on the bright city outside. No one challenged Tseng’s presence.

Reno groaned himself into consciousness. The drugs dulled his pain but his limbs were weak. The air was cool and the bed was clean, at least. He fumbled around until he managed to sit up.

Tseng stirred and stretched in his chair. He hid a yawn behind his hand and looked up. He reached out and caught Reno’s hand in his own, squeezed it. His eyes flicked to the curtain to make sure it was closed. Then he stood and gave the youth a crushing kiss.

“Did I make it, boss?”

Tseng laughed, embracing him tightly.

“Aow.”

“Sorry. Yes, of course you made it,” Tseng said, stroking his shoulders. “You exceeded even my expectations. Teaming up with Rude rather than make a futile attempt to win alone, that even impressed Veld. You both made it. As of now, you are officially Turks trainees.”

“I told you I wouldn’t let you down, boss,” Reno grinned. He sobered quickly. “What was up with Sephiroth? Was that part of the test?”

“No.” Tseng sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the boy’s thin back through his hospital gown. “No, that certainly was not part of the test. Veld was furious. No one knows how he got into the simulation chamber undetected. He said that he was bored. He said that he was curious about you all because you were still passionate and hopeful, the way he felt before he joined SOLDIER. He's an intimidating person but he is still a kid. A messed up kid, at that.”

“Scared the shit out of me,” Reno said. “Even Rude was freaked out. He probably could have killed us if he wanted to, though, and he didn’t. Not like that prick, Johan. Did he make it?”

“No. Too temperamental.”

“Good,” Reno said. “That asshole. No one’s ever hit me with magic before. That shit hurts.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’m going to have to get used to it, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are.”

Reno groaned and buried his face in Tseng’s white shirt. For once, Tseng had discarded his jacket. He let his hands wander Reno’s body, enjoying the slight, warm feel of him. He kissed his temple tenderly. Reno edged closer, curled his lanky figure into the embrace.

“I feel awful,” Reno said. “My muscles are like melted rubber and my head is pounding and I have to pee but I don’t wanna get up. I’m starving. But it was pretty epic. And I was awesome, wasn’t I?”

Tseng laughed, kissed him. He held the boy’s face in both hands, gentle on the bruised side. Despite Reno’s cocky smile, Tseng could see the need for approval in his eyes. _No, he would never be my little gigolo, no matter how he jokes. He’s ambitious and proud enough to want to_ — _to_ _ **need**_ _to_ — _prove himself._

“You were,” Tseng said. “You certainly were. Now, my ‘awesome’ recruit, let’s get you to the bathroom and fed, all right?”

Reno blushed but allowed Tseng to help him down from the bed. He managed to get into the bathroom and back out alone. He let Tseng help him back to bed. In the bathroom, he had gotten a good look at himself, and the sight was not pretty.

“I can’t believe a day ago, I was crying over a spanking,” Reno said. “I told you that it wasn’t about the pain.”

“I believed you.” Tseng ran a hand through Reno’s hair, ruffled it. “But you do have a low endurance threshold. It’s understandable, given your weight and lack of experience. You’ll have to be trained.”

“That sounds painful.”

Tseng took Reno’s hands into his own.

“If you want out, now is the time to get out,” he said. “You can stay with me, either way. I care about you, Reno. I care about you very much.”

“No, I wasn’t chickening out!” Reno exclaimed. “I’m not afraid. I’m going to be a Turk, Tseng. You’re my boss. I mean, yeah, being hurt like this sucks, but I can take it. I don’t want to be some … some parasite. You know? I told you, I don’t want anyone to look at me like that again. I want to have something that’s mine. I want to be good at something. I’m not going to drop out now! Not after all this, especially.”

Reno noted the lack of surprise on Tseng’s face just before their lips met. _It’s only been a day and he already sees right through me,_ Reno thought. _Was this a test? He’s confirming his expectations? Goddamn I love him. But he’s still a little scary._

“I’m going to the cafeteria,” Tseng said. “Is there anything in particular that you want?”

“Oh—yeah!”

Reno demanded enough food to feed a small army. Tseng left the infirmary wondering where the skinny kid put it all. The long nap had left him hungry, as well. He decided to bring food up for them both. If Reno was up to it, Tseng would prefer to bring him home with him that night. He had gotten used to his company and would like to keep him in his arms while he healed.

Tseng swiped his keycard and the elevator swiftly brought him to the 63rd floor. The cafeteria was open 24/7 to cater to the needs of the many employees slaving the late hours away to keep Shinra going. Tseng was not surprised to spot Reeve Tuesti dining alone while going through paperwork. He took a minute to greet him.

“I heard that you’ve found some good candidates for the Turks,” Reeve said. “You’re comfortable with that responsibility?”

“I’ll only be responsible for one of the trainees, personally,” Tseng said. “A few were filtered out to SOLDIER, the others were recruited by Veld and more senior Turks.”

“Still. Yesterday, you seemed more resigned to your work than anything,” Reeve said. He narrowed his eyes up at Tseng, rubbed his mouth with his hand. “Hm. No, something _has_ changed. You look different.”

“I’m the same as ever,” Tseng said. “Almost the same, anyway. I found motivation, I suppose you could say. I’ve had a hell of a time, these past twenty-four hours.”

Reeve gestured at an empty seat at the next table over. Tseng dragged the chair over and sat down at Reeve’s table.

“It hit me all at once: what my new future was going to be,” Tseng explained. “I never intended to work at Shinra in this capacity, as you well know. I had other plans, other dreams, and those are all dead now. My life had been very precisely organized before. From the moment I took the Turks Aptitude Test, I’ve been telling myself that I’ve reorganized it, that I still have control, that there’s still order. That’s been a lie.”

“As an architect, I can certainly understand that,” Reeve said. Pain danced across his handsome features. “When the Plate fell on Sector 6, I felt that way. All my planning, all my work, all my care … for what? So people both on the Plate and beneath it could die so horribly? Everything was chaos.”

“Yes, chaos,” Tseng said. “Not to compare my personal problems to such a tragedy, but I did feel that everything I knew had come tumbling down. My control was a lie. The order I clung to was a lie. I lost myself entirely. Yesterday, I realized exactly who and what I will have to be to succeed at this job. And I didn’t like that person, particularly.”

“And all that changed so suddenly? Practically overnight?”

“I met someone who has survived worse chaos than this,” Tseng said with a small smile. “He reminded me that the world isn’t black and white, good and evil. Today, he gave everything, absolutely everything he has, to have a shot at this job that I’ve been snubbing. There are more out there like that, so many more, who never will get a second chance at any kind of decent life, who will languish wasting their abilities.”

“Despite Shinra’s promises, I’m afraid that still remains true.”

“Then there is Sephiroth, who I also have gotten acquainted with today.”

“Yes, I heard that he caused quite a stir at the Aptitude Test.”

“He certainly did,” Tseng said. “But for all his arrogance, he is still a child. He’s a child that’s been handed too much power, too quickly. He takes everything for granted, even life itself. So does Rufus Shinra, though he wields his own power more strategically. All of us, Sephiroth, Rufus, Reno, and myself, are of the same generation. Veld has said it before but today I know exactly what he means when he says that our generation is the future of Shinra.”

Reeve’s brow furrowed. The pain was suddenly etched more deeply into his face, aging him. Tseng could plainly see that in a few years, the lines at the corners of his mouth and beneath his eyes would be permanent. He wished there was something optimistic that he could say to the man, but there was only the truth: the gray, shadowy truth.

“Children trained to be spies and assassins, a partially lab-raised child SOLDIER, and an heir that will someday have absolute power over all the nations of the world,” Tseng said. “This is the future of Shinra, Incorporated. More than your generation, ours has to recognize that, and stop clinging to the ideals of civility and order than our parents raised us on. In the end, that is the only way that we will be able to support our parents: by succeeding in the world of the future, not the one of the past. Whether they like it or not.”

“It’s a lot to give up for one’s parents, Tseng.”

“I’m no longer doing it only for them, however,” Tseng said. “I _want_ to succeed. I always wanted to achieve the most that I can. I’ve been forced onto another path, but that doesn’t mean it is _not_ a path. And now I have someone else to strive for, someone of my own generation, someone that understands the future better than I have.”

“You’re very fond of this recruit.”

“He is—a friend.” Tseng checked his watch and stood. “And he’s probably wondering where I am. Excuse me, Mr. Tuesti.”

“It’s ‘Reeve’.” The man stared into his cup of coffee wistfully. “Just ‘Reeve’.”

Tseng nodded and left him. He felt sorry for the architect of Midgar. Being the sole idealist on the Board must be a difficult position. In a way, Tseng reflected, Reeve was more of a child than he or any of the Turks were. There was something pure about Reeve that reminded Tseng, oddly, of the little girl Aerith. But purity was no guarantee of safety, not in this time, in this city.

Tseng ordered several dishes to go and picked up some Potion drinks at the vending machine. His stomach growled as the smell of food drifted up from the bags. In time, he would have to dote on Reno far less than this. But his feelings for him were new and he could afford to be a bit indulgent.

Reno flashed white teeth at the sight of the bags of food. Tseng climbed up to sit cross-legged at the end of the hospital bed. Food was doled out and they ate, Tseng with care and Reno with unfettered gluttony.

“How do you eat so much?” Tseng asked. He reached over and kissed the side of Reno’s mouth, licking sauce off as he did. “You don’t have to stuff yourself, you know. You’ll be fed well now that you’re officially a member of Shinra.”

“Old habits,” Reno said through a mouth full of food. “It’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Just don’t make yourself sick,” Tseng warned. “You’ll have the weekend to recover, then training begins.”

“Better make sure I eat enough to heal quickly, then.”

Tseng laughed. In truth, he enjoyed watching the kid eat. Everything he did, he did with a fierce energy Tseng found quite cute. Tseng had no doubt Reno would burn all the calories off, anyway, given his intensity. He gave his cheek a kiss and left him to it.

They were cleaning up the cartons when the curtains were yanked aside. Tseng straightened up, wiping his hands on a paper napkin. Rufus Shinra stood before them, with Sephiroth by his side. Sephiroth’s green eyes were wide with emotion and he looked more sullen than ever.

“Good, you’re still here,” Rufus said. “Now you can apologize, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth’s hands curled into fists but they unfurled when his head was tugged back slightly. Tseng realized that Rufus had the boy by his long silver hair. Sephiroth gave Rufus a scowl. Rufus ignored the hostility with bored patience.

“Did you really think that I wouldn’t hear about your misbehavior?” Rufus said. “There’s nothing that happens in this company that I don’t know about. Apologize. Now.”

“It isn’t necessary,” Tseng said. “Veld is the one that heads the department, not me. I’m a rookie and Reno is a new recruit.”

“I’d kind of like an apology,” Reno muttered. Tseng shot him a stern look and he amended, “Never mind. S’okay.”

“He doesn’t care about either of _you_ ,” Sephiroth said. “He’s only out to punish me.”

Rufus tugged his hair. Sephiroth tried to disentangle his fingers but Rufus held firm.

“Keep doing that, and I’ll cut it all off,” he said irritably. “Let go of me, Rufus.”

Rufus wound his hair around his wrist the way one would shorten a dog’s leash. Sephiroth had to stoop a little. Reno was amazed at how fearlessly Rufus handled the young SOLDIER.

“Stubborn,” Rufus remarked. “Are you going to apologize or do I have to—”

“Fine,” Sephiroth hissed. “Let me go first.”

“No.”

Their eyes met, blue and green and both pairs cold as ice. Sephiroth drew a breath and exhaled slowly. He straightened up as best he could with his hair still wound around Rufus’ arm. He addressed Tseng.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t interfere with the Turks again.”

“Thank you.”

Rufus released his hair. Sephiroth pressed a hand to his scalp, eyeing his former friend with an unreadable expression. Rufus put a hand on his shoulder.

“Good boy,” he said patronizingly. “Let’s go.”

Rufus led Sephiroth out of the infirmary. Sephiroth shook his hand off only to have his hair gripped again, though lightly. Rufus may as well have been leading Darkstar.

“Well, that was interesting,” Tseng commented. “I suppose Sephiroth is not entirely unmatched.”

“He likes it.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do,” Reno said. “I mean, look at his clothes, all those leather straps. It’s practically bondage gear.”

“He’s a teenager, a lot of teenagers try to overcompensate for their youth by wearing sinister clothing.”

“The hell does someone like that have to overcompensate for? It'd be more like overkill. Besides, think about it,” Reno said. “With all that power, all Sephiroth would have to do is give the VP a little taste of it to scare him off. He wouldn’t even have to really hurt him. And if he did hurt him a bit, so what? The company isn’t going to lose someone they’ve invested years of training and medical research into because the President’s son gets a black eye.”

“And Sephiroth knows that,” Tseng agreed. “He isn’t stupid.”

“Right,” Reno said. “But he doesn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything after that Rufus dude slapped him earlier, right?”

“No.” _Or when he spanked him in front of Heidegger and myself._

“And you said that when Rufus got too close, all Sephiroth said was ‘not yet’,” Reno pointed out. “If he really doesn’t want the guy, why would he say that? Why not just say ‘no’? Rufus thinks he’s the only one playing a game, but he’s not. Sephiroth is toying with him as much as Rufus is toying with Sephiroth.”

“But he—” Tseng stopped short of confessing all he knew. “Rufus _has_ hurt Sephiroth. I saw the pain in his eyes, before. He feels betrayed.”

“So why keep instigating?” Reno said. “Why not just do his job at SOLDIER like everyone else? I think he wants Rufus’s attention.”

Tseng was impressed that Reno had guessed so much about Rufus and Sephiroth's relationship. If Tseng had not seen Sephiroth's submission to Rufus with his own eyes, heard his confession with his own ears, he never would have imagined Sephiroth to be a masochist.

“Still,” Tseng said, “they are not lovers.”

“Maybe he wants to be,” Reno said. “Or maybe he just enjoys being punished for its own sake.”

“Maybe _you’re_ just projecting.”

“I’m not a masochist!” Reno blushed. “Not, uh, not much of one.”

“Well, whatever you are, are you up to leaving?” Tseng asked. “If you’d rather stay here overnight, that’s fine, but you seem well enough to be discharged.”

“Would they discharge me at this hour?”

“Shinra operates at all hours. Can you walk?”

Reno climbed out of bed and stretched. He was still weak but nodded. Tseng went to speak with the attendants at the front desk outside the room. They signed Reno out and gave Tseng his clothes. Tseng returned to Reno, waited for him to change, and they left together.

Tseng called a taxi to spare Reno further exertion. Reno still stared out the car window at the Plate’s nightscape like a tourist. Tseng absorbed himself in his phone, answering emails and seeing about the agenda for the coming days. He was done by the time they reached his apartment.

“You’ll have an expenditure account during training,” he said, tossing his keys and wallet into their tray. “It’s all credit, so not making it into the Turks will be problematic, financially.”

“Don’t worry about that, boss. I’m gonna make it for sure.”

“Mm. Well, in that case, tomorrow you should go shopping,” Tseng said. “Shinra will provide the training uniforms, but you’ll need street clothes, shoes, everything, I suppose. You really had nothing down there?”

“In the slums? Just trash,” Reno said. He kicked off his boots. “Things hadn’t been going too good. I was sleeping on a mattress I stole from the trash, in one of the vent tunnels. I was starting to think of going to Wall Market and getting a job there—permanently, you know?”

“I won’t deny you’re quit talented at that,” Tseng said. “But it would have been a terrible waste of your other skills.”

“You think I’m talented at _that_ , huh?”

Reno sidled up to Tseng and kissed him. Tseng’s hands traveled down his long back, squeezed his trim buttocks. The kiss deepened and Reno wound around him, snake-like. Tseng forced himself to push him away, holding him at arms’ length by the shoulders.

“No, not tonight,” he said firmly. “You have to rest. You took quite a beating during the Aptitude Test.”

“Mmmm, yeah, I guess.” Reno yawned. “I am beat. You sure you still want me here, though, boss?”

“More than ever.”

“In that case, I’m turning in. You have a really comfortable bed.”

“You do that. Go.”

Tseng gave him a prompting swat on the bottom. Reno got in one last kiss, then headed for the bedroom. He was doing his best not to show it, but he was exhausted. Even the food had barely revived him. His muscles were weak and the pain medication was wearing off. The bruises covering his body were starting to throb dully and his face hurt.

 _It was fucking_ _ **worth**_ _it, though,_ he thought with a vicious smile. He stripped off the baggy sweats and took a look at himself in Tseng’s full-length mirror. His smile faltered. He had avoided major injuries but he was mottled with bruises. Bad as it was, he knew they would be even uglier the next day. Half of his face was swollen from Rude’s backhand. Turning around, he saw that even the bruises Tseng had laid upon him last night were deep purple, aggravated from the times he had hit the floor during the test. _Shit. It’s not going to be easy moving around for a few days. Still worth it, thought._

Reno found the pajama pants he had been given last night and slipped them on. He climbed beneath the cool, soft sheets gratefully. The excitement fizzled from his brain and he was asleep in minutes.

Reno thought that he woke for a few moments sometime later. He could have sworn he felt Tseng take him into his arms and kiss his forehead. Strong hands caressed him with exquisite gentleness.

“I’m so glad that you found me, Reno. Thank you.”

Reno thought he heard Tseng’s voice whisper those words that second night in his arms. But then, perhaps it was only a dream.


	6. Fireworks and New Faith

Sephiroth tried to separate from Rufus once they were outside the medical ward but Rufus was not appeased by his apology. Although he had released his hair, at last, he seized the young soldier by the wrist. Sephiroth's first instinct was to pull away but he did not have the strength to fight much after the mortifying day. He let Rufus guide him to the elevators, only then yanking his arm back and crossing both across his chest. Rufus watched him with his unnervingly calm, penetrating gaze.

 _I still feel like a little boy when he stares at me that way,_ Sephiroth thought. He looked away from Rufus, face warming. _No one can make me feel like this. Even combat has never made me feel like this. Rufus was right, the last time we met in Wutai: he is the only one that can make me feel so deeply. I should hate him for it, but … it's just the opposite._

“Where were you going, exactly?” Rufus asked. “You've been suspended from active duty for a week.”

“I still have a right to live in the SOLDIER barracks.”

“You do, but you are not going to live there, not while you're in Midgar,” Rufus said. “You will come home with me where you belong.”

Sephiroth glanced at him but did not argue. In fact, the development pleased him greatly. He followed Rufus obediently out of the Shinra HQ, to the waiting car. He was disappointed that the driver was no their old caregiver, Ms. Ami.

The ride to the Shinra Tower was familiar enough to give Sephiroth a pang. He watched the streets go by as he had for the first time when he was ten years old. He did not understand why the sight hurt him but a deep, nostalgic sorrow nestled firmly in his heart. Rufus said nothing but he felt his gaze on him all the while, and refused to let his feelings show.

The Shinra Penthouse Suite was dark, empty, and quiet when they arrived. Rufus turned on the lights and Sephiroth looked around curiously. The furniture had been updated over the past three years to a more current style, otherwise it was the same. Instinctively, Sephiroth headed for his room. He found it as he had left it and his heart twisted again.

“I told you that this will always be your home, and I meant it,” Rufus told him. “Did you really think that I would allow you to live anywhere else? Especially after your misbehavior?”

Sephiroth paused at his desk, a hand running over his old hairbrush. His face colored and his pulse quickened a few beats. He turned to Rufus, lifting his face defiantly.

“What now?” he asked. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Is that what you want?”

“No.”

Rufus walked up to him, hands in his pockets. Sephiroth's show of rebellion began to wear thin. Their closeness inflamed him more strongly than it ever had before. He had been too shocked to realize it before, but the punishment in Wutai had felt different. In the days following, he had recognized the intimacy of it, recalled Rufus's hand soothing the welts. Even the sight of the bruises had made him confused, angry, and more desirous of his old friend than he ever had been before. Before he knew it, he was taking advantage of his time in Midgar to misbehave in an effort to get Rufus's attention. He knew how childish the pattern was, but he lost control of himself when he thought of Rufus Shinra every time.

Rufus picked up the hairbrush, tapped the hard back against his palm. “Are you sure?”

Rufus could feel the need and want rolling off of Sephiroth in waves. In his intensity, the youth was totally still, his eyes not even blinking. Rufus decided to end this dangerous game. He put the hairbrush down and stepped away from him.

“I'm not going to give you what you want,” he said, “not this time. You've played me long enough. You _will_ be punished while you're here, but not in the way you expect.”

“What do you mean?”

Rufus smiled and stepped out of the room. He shut the door behind himself. Sephiroth made to follow him but found the door locked.

“You're grounded, Sephiroth,” Rufus's voice came through the door. “If you want to play the child, then you'll still be treated like one, just not in the way you enjoy.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Sephiroth pounded on the door. “Let me out! Rufus!”

“You stay in there and think about things for a while. Naughty brat.”

Sephiroth's face colored. Despite himself, he snorted softly in amusement. Just when he thought Rufus could not find a new way to tame him …

“I could break this door down, you know.”

“Do that, and I'll have you suspended for another week.” Rufus's voice softened. “Go to sleep, Sephiroth. We have a week to talk about things. Maybe you'll even enjoy hanging out with me, the way we used to.”

Sephiroth swallowed, eyes moistening. He leaned his forehead against the door. He could practically feel Rufus on the other side. His presence was comforting, even if this wasn't as close as he wanted to be.

“I would like that.”

“Goodnight, Sephiroth.”

“ … Goodnight.”

Sephiroth waited until he heard the door to Rufus's room, right beside his own, shut. He sighed and wandered around his room again. Memories flooded his mind and brought a faint smile to his lips. He found a set of pajamas that still fit and went to the en suite bathroom. He showered and changed, feeling at home again.

Sephiroth lay down on his bed, stared up at the ceiling. He rolled onto his side after a while and ran a hand over the sheets. He remembered the few nights when he had had night terrors and Rufus ended up cradling him in his arms in this bed.

 _I miss that the most,_ Sephiroth thought. _I thought that I would forget after I joined SOLDIER, but I haven't. I believed that it would be the right thing to do: become invulnerable, strong. But no one appreciates it. And every time they look at me like I'm wrong for doing my job wrong, I think of Rufus. He refuses to fear me, no matter what I do. Every time that he proves that, I love him more. No, it isn't something as mundane as love. I respect him. I_ only _respect him._

_But …_

Sephiroth rolled onto his back again, turning his face towards the windows. He watched the glow of Midgar's lights seep in between the gaps in the drapes. As much control as he had over his body and its physical reactions, he no longer wanted to control his impulses. His hand slid down his stomach, then stopped short. Self-pleasure was a humiliation to him, a failure. He only wanted one person's hands around him … over him … striking him, comforting him, it made no difference.

Sephiroth sighed, closed his eyes. That man, Tseng, he had had a point: perhaps Rufus only would love Sephiroth when he saw him as a man, rather than the boy he had first met. That was the one thing that Rufus had mastered before Sephiroth had: emotional control. Sephiroth smiled ruefully, remembering the first day they had met: Rufus scolding him for damaging Shinra equipment, facing him boldly even when Sephiroth threatened him. It was more than being the heir of Shinra, Rufus had an inherent strength that one could not inherit, not buy, not imitate. Sephiroth had Rufus's own father wound around his finger, but Rufus always saw through his ploys, his strength, his threats, all of it. He saw straight through to the core of Sephiroth, sometimes more clearly than Sephiroth saw himself.

 _Or am I changing myself to fit Rufus's image of me? Who am I, if I can only fit myself into his perceptions? Who_ am _I?_

Sephiroth's eyes blurred with tears and he drew a deep breath. How could he possibly know who he was, when he had no parents? He had never had a baseline to judge himself by, never known what he was supposed to resemble. Rufus had a legacy to guide him—he had nothing.

_At least Rufus didn't realize my real intention of interfering with that Turks exam._

Sephiroth let a smile crawl over his lips. He had toyed with those two Turks, certainly. He had enjoyed playing with the other young, bright candidates. But he had taken a moment to find that old bully who had long since moved out of the Shinra Tower: Johan. Even before the first round of the Turks tests, he had psychologically damaged the man by flaunting his SOLDIER status and reminding him of the limb-breaking beating he had given him years ago. Johan had spent his entire day overcompensating for that loss, and he had been defeated, just as Sephiroth had planned.

Sephiroth's smile widened and he instinctively hid his mouth behind one hand. Humor was weakness to him, he still felt uncomfortable expressing it, even in private. Still, having the opportunity to sabotage that bully was an unexpected pleasure. He had happened upon the man in the hallway while on his way to Hojo's regular examination. After that, finding out his reason for being in the Shinra HQ had been easy: Sephiroth was a celebrity within Shinra culture and the outside world. Sephiroth had once before given him all he deserved, but he had never forgiven Johan for insinuating that Sephiroth was one of President Shinra's bastard sons and that therefore Sephiroth's dead mother was a whore. As nonsensical a lie as it was, Sephiroth still hated to think of his mother being disparaged. Seeing Johan trying to regain a foothold of Shinra life by joining the Turks had irritated him. So, he had disguised his plot to ruin Johan behind the bratty rebellious phase that Rufus now expected from him. His confrontation with Rufus had been harsher than he expected, but in the end, he had accomplished both goals: Johan failed the Turks exam and Rufus had brought him back home, close to him.

Just like in SOLDIER, Sephiroth was eased by success. He relaxed into his bed, letting his unresolved problems go for the night. He had done enough, and he had time.

Rufus said that often, didn't he?

They always had time …

Why was he so certain of that?

Sephiroth was nagged by the thought but too tired to pursue it. He climbed beneath the sheets, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

* * *

Sephiroth woke up, went through his morning ritual, dressed, and glared at his door. Was Rufus planning to leave him locked in this whole time? He tried the door and found it unlocked. The hallway was empty, quiet. He could have tried for the front door but had no desire to leave. As when he was a boy living here, he headed towards the kitchen. Surely enough, Rufus was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, where they normally opted to eat instead of the formal dining room. There was also—

“SEPHIROTH!”

Amara Ami darted out of the kitchen and threw herself into Sephiroth. Sephiroth caught her instinctively, though the sudden closeness made him tense. She was tall for a woman but she felt small in his arms now. It was strange to look down at the top of her head by so many inches. Sephiroth felt clumsy for once with his caregiver in his arms.

The nostalgia came in gentle waves this time. He remembered the summer he spent learning to swim with her in the pool. He could almost feel the tender strokes of her hand on his head, down his hair, as she brushed it and chatted away to him. Although it hurt, time and again Sephiroth felt that Ms. Ami was what a mother should be.

Rufus had slid down from his seat and approached them. He kept a distance, watching. He saw Sephiroth's control slip and his eyes moisten. It made his own heart swell to see Sephiroth return Amara's embrace. A tear slid from Sephiroth's eye as he hugged the woman desperately with both arms.

“Ah … ow.”

Sephiroth released her and scrubbed his hand over his eyes swiftly. He was in control immediately, but only just. Amara beamed up at him, holding him by the shoulders.

“I'm sorry,” Sephiroth said, “Ms. Ami.”

“It's fine! It's fine! Look at you!” Amara laughed. “You've grown so strong! It's good to see you again. Are you doing all right? Are you eating enough? Still taking care of your hair? It's still all in your face, you should tie it back!”

“Or cut it off,” Sephiroth said, with a pointed look at Rufus.

“No, it suits you. Come have something to eat. I told the cook to make everything that you like.”

Rufus admired the way Amara could easily lead Sephiroth. He was docile in her hands, still a bit shy, like a respectful son. Rufus was only three years older than Sephiroth, his father had usually been absent, so Amara was Sephiroth's sole parental figure. Rufus was very grateful to her for always giving him warmth and love, unconditionally. He could never offer that pure, selfless, beautiful love—not even to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth could not remain taciturn for very long. His attempt at being taciturn melted away in Amara's presence. Rufus kept mostly to himself, content to watch his dearest friends fold back into the comfort of their shared home.

_So they're not lost to me, after all._

* * *

A few nights later, fireworks were being set off for the citizens living on the Plate. As with every holiday, Rufus stood patiently on the podium while his father gave his obligatory speech. After that, he was driven straight home. By the time he got to the rooftop of Shinra Tower, the fireworks were already lighting up the sky.

Amara and Gus were snuggled on a lounge sofa together, drinking summer cocktails. President Shinra was absent as usual. Sephiroth sat alone on a chair, watching the sky. His brow was slightly furrowed, his hair pulled back in a long ponytail (most likely by Amara). He wore loose black swim trunks and a sleeveless black shirt, his hair still damp. He turned in his seat, met Rufus's gaze. A bright burst of green and red in the sky illuminated his feline eyes and every curve of his face.

 _He is not my friend anymore,_ Rufus thought. He drew a deep breath but his heart went on racing. _I always loved him. Now I also want him. It has to wait a little while, but before long … what will we be? Is he my one true love? Those words are so trite. The scope of my feelings for him is indescribable. But are they 'true'? Is this even me? Or am I being influenced by the destiny that Old Rufus Shinra chained me to?_

Rufus touched the pendant beneath his shirt.

_Are we all chained to the whims of a man from another world, another time? A man that is me, but is not me? What a facile excuse. I could throw all of these difficulties away and blame my entire past, all my feelings, on Old Rufus's interference. I could be as falsely perfect as my father believes he is, as he forced my mother to be. But I won't. I'm striving for more than lies, more than that myopic view of perfection the world has. I need more. I deserve more. So does Sephiroth._

The thoughts flickered through Rufus's mind as quickly as the fireworks exploded and died. He made his way over to Sephiroth and drew up a chair next to him. Sephiroth smiled a little. He had taken being grounded quite well: spending the time relaxing at home as he had when he was a boy. He was happy to be returning to combat soon but hardly mentioned it.

“Is that beer?”

“Gus gave it to me.”

“You're fifteen.”

“Alcohol doesn't affect me in small quantities.” Sephiroth took a swig. “I don't like the taste, though.”

He put the bottle down on the nearby table and turned his eyes back to the sky. Another burst of fireworks illuminated the semi-darkness. Sephiroth frowned again. Rufus reached out and took his hand into his own. Sephiroth squeezed it thoughtlessly. He looked down when he realized, then at Rufus. A burst of light illuminated Rufus's blue eyes, leaving the rest of his face in darkness for a moment.

“You always had very particular tastes.”

Rufus ran his fingers over Sephiroth's lips, the curve of the thinner top one and the slightly plumper pout of the bottom. Sephiroth ran his tongue over his bottom lip, tightened his mouth. The hand Rufus still held felt warmer, the pulse quickening where Rufus's thumb rested on the wrist. Rufus pulled him closer and brought their lips together. The beer taste still on Sephiroth's tongue was sweet, and Rufus knew how much he had always loathed anything sweet.

Rufus had to draw away for air first. Their foreheads still touched, breaths mingled in the warm summer air, and Sephiroth rested a hand on the back of Rufus's neck. For the first time in years, Sephiroth's cat-like smile was purely happy and genuine.

“I love you,” Rufus said. “I've never loved anyone _but_ you, Sephiroth. That's why I have to be certain that this can work. I've made mistakes. You've made mistakes. We were both lost children when we met, in a way. I don't want to rush into something that will ruin what we already have forever.”

Sephiroth listened intently, searching Rufus's eyes. He did not protest or argue. He nodded a little and kissed Rufus tenderly. Then he wrapped his arms around Rufus, clung to him, as he had so long ago in his room in Hojo's lab. This time there were no tears, he grasped at Rufus with love rather than desperation. Rufus ran a hand up and down his strong back, glancing up as fireworks broke out across the sky. He kissed Sephiroth's hair, the scent of the pool's chlorine wafting off of it. When Sephiroth drew back, Rufus took his face into both hands.

“Do you understand what I'm saying?” he asked. “Can this be enough for you, for now?”

“Do you love me?” Sephiroth asked. “Do you … really want me?”

“Yes.”

“That was all I wanted, Rufus,” Sephiroth said. “Ever since I was twelve, that was all I wanted. I love you.”

Sephiroth kissed him on a rare streak of impulse, his shyness and awkwardness dashed away. His tongue ran into Rufus's mouth, first exploring and then devouring. His arms encircled Rufus again. Rufus let his hands wander Sephiroth's smooth skin, grip his steel-strong muscles. As much as he loved Sephiroth, he could not help but marvel at possessing this power—of _owning_ such a man for himself. His nails dug into Sephiroth's flesh as he pushed against him, let his teeth lightly bite his tongue, nestled his face into that ethereal silver hair. He let his new desire for Sephiroth, the man that Sephiroth now was, bloom as hotly and brightly as the fireworks above.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the moment was short-lived as those faraway explosions. Gus whooping broke the mood apart and turned both their eyes skyward. The final barrage of fireworks were screaming and crackling and booming high above the city. Rufus kissed Sephiroth's temple one last time, then held his hand to watch the final display. It ended with the emblem of Shinra, Inc. emblazoned upon the sky.

“I belong to Shinra,” Sephiroth murmured.

Rufus turned his face to his own and kissed him.

“And _I_ belong to _you_ ,” he reminded him. “Never forget that, Sephiroth. We belong to each other.”

Sephiroth gripped Rufus's hand so tightly it was painful.

“Always?”

“Forever, Sephiroth.”

Rufus kissed his forehead. The lights from above died. Their was a heated silence, then Gus and Amara's laughter broke through the night. Rufus and Sephiroth sat apart, protecting a secret too new and precious to be shared yet. The two Turks joined them and the night tumbled into casual merriment.

* * *

That night, Rufus took an interesting phone call from Tseng. Tseng explained his conversation with Sephiroth some days ago, which shed new light on Sephiroth's recent behavior. He implored Rufus to keep their love affair a secret from Sephiroth and Rufus readily agreed; he knew how difficult Sephiroth could be when he was jealous.

Rufus was considering everything as he lay in bed when he heard the door to his room open. He did not have to look to know that it was Sephiroth. Sephiroth had never barged into his room before, not even as a little boy. He was stealthy about it, not making a sound until he leaned over Rufus on the bed. His hair fell down around them, some strands brushing Rufus's face. He bent his face down and kissed Rufus.

“Sephiroth, I told you, I don't want to—”

“I know.”

Sephiroth lay down beside Rufus. He put an arm over Rufus's chest and nestled his face into his neck. Rufus stroked his hair, his arm, and his old friend and someday lover sighed contentedly.

“This is all that I want.”

“What?”

Sephiroth was quiet. Rufus turned his face to his own. He could not see him blushing but Rufus felt the excess warmth on Sephiroth's face.

“Tell me,” Rufus demanded. “Sephiroth, if we ever do get closer than this, you have to tell me everything. You have to talk to me before you get frustrated, before you act out. Say it. Say what you want, right now.”

Rufus kissed Sephiroth's brow, between his furrowed eyebrows. Sephiroth moved closer. He slid down a bit to rest his head on Rufus's chest.

“When you broke into Hojo's lab and held me in your arms, I never wanted to leave them,” Sephiroth said. “Only Professor Gast had ever held me before that, and he left me. Hojo told me that it was weak to want to be held, that it was weak to want anything from people at all. I never should need anything from anyone. I don't even think that he was completely wrong. But I still wanted to be with you. After the day that you and Ms. Ami took me out, after … everything … I thought that I would never see you again. I was crying already that day—mourning really. Then you came to me and held me. It was different than it was with Professor Gast. You were almost my age, a friend not an adult. I had never had a friend. You weren't obligated to feel anything about me, but you did.”

“I wanted to protect you.”

“Yes. Every time I had a night terror, even every time after you punished me, you always held me—just like this. I still … don't want it to ever end. That's what I want, Rufus.”

“Then I'll hold you. I will always be here to hold you. Did you ever doubt that?”

“Yes.”

“Don't doubt it again.” Rufus kissed Sephiroth's cheek. “Never doubt it again. No matter how old you are, no matter how powerful, no matter what they call you or what you've done, I will always be here to hold you.”

Sephiroth looked at him, was satisfied by whatever he saw on Rufus's face. He settled into the bed and Rufus's chest. Soon, he was asleep. Rufus remained awake for a while, enjoying the solid weight of him. At last, at long last, he had uncovered Sephiroth's core self: not the boy inside the man or the man outside the boy, simply his pure, true nature. He felt some of the future's burden easing off his shoulders. It was more than love, it was faith: for the first time, he had faith that this bond between them would truly change their destinies.

_It is our time now. Not Old Rufus Shinra's. Not the last generation's, not the future generation's, it is **our** time. This war and storm will pass, not very much longer from now. And we will bring forth a new world from the ashes of the past and the remnants of Old Rufus's broken future._

  
  


**~~ Fin ~~**

  
  



End file.
